Cacti

I am 15
West of San
Antonio in a car
With my Dad and
His pilot friend looking
At land near a lake where
The hillsides are covered not
In scrub cedar but in cacti clumps
Of various types colors spines
Short or long drinking each
From our water bottles as
The summer sun broils
The landscape which
Shimmers in the heat
A few scrub oaks to
Shade the lizards
And I examine a
Cactus flower
Red blossom
As the pilot
Captain is
Watching
Me he
Says
We could
Dig that cacti
Up pot it take it back
To town and water it but
Then it would die from too much
Care which occurs to me over
The decades since about a
Balance of too much care
Versus too harsh things
To endure but I think I
Would rather risk too
Much love on a cacti
Blossom than leave
It without nurture
In such harsh
Conditions
Willing to
Risk, try
A leap
Of faith
In my green
Thumb and the
Cacti lives but never
Again yields up a blossom
So perhaps the captain
Was right to let alone
A cacti in blossom
On a shimmering
Hillside as the
Lake slowly
Contracts
To a heat
Mirage.
Many many
Texas summers
Came and went before
I got back to my old house
Garden where I dream my cacti
Is still alive sporting a red blossom,
For hope nourishes us each
Though we are only a
Cacti with spines
Far from our
Hillside.