Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

new year’s morning... the hawk builds its nest  in a windy place

Seasoning My eyes are rehearsing for when the winter solstice ends. As the light wanes I see what I thought was reluctance covering my face.  I want to expand every moment into an emotional chemistry that includes the smell and texture of every lover I’ve had. But the solstice is ending, old recalled lovers who look like glasswing butterflies stretched across other summers find the pot of gold at the end of my rainbow.