Retired in Mexico

by Patricia Campuzano Volpe
(Portland, OR USA)

We could not speak of dreams
The future has already happened.
My only ambition now is to die well.

I could not make you a single promise.
My open arms could not close only to embrace a man.

Come visit my garden
All is welcome that comes through its gate.
The heart has become the center and love
A template to explain the world.

I can tell you about seeds
Rabbits, turning soil.
I have a telescope, a microscope
A new book on birds.

My eyes rest on nopal and maguey
Pirul and garambullo. Let’s tell our stories there
In their quiet presence.

The line of rain will travel across the landscape
A curtain closing
The wide drops bringing the wetness of climax.