Caminitos

The pathways of my thoughts are cobbled with mesquite blocks and narrow-winding, long and aged like the streets of san fernando de bexar y la villa real de san antonio pensive y callados cada uno con su chiste idiosyncracy crazy turns that are because they are, centuries magic cada uno hecho as í , y with a careful capricho touch, as í . They curl slowly into ripples, earthy and cool like the R í o Medina under the trees silently singing, standing still, and flowing, becoming, became and always as always still fertile, laughing, loving, alivianada R í o Medina under the trees, celebrating life. They end up in the monte, chaparral, llenos de burrs, spurs pero libres Running through the hills freefoot con aire azul blue breaths peacefully taken between each lope remembering venado remembering conejos remembering where we came from