New Mexico December

The smell of piñon burning
Brings a catch to my heart
And my eyes well up
I thought at first
It was allergies
But now I understand
The sweet smell brings unnamed yearnings
Like the sound of a harp
The taste of maple sugar
The sight of blue skies and one cloud
The soft feel of rabbit fur
The gentle touch of baby’s hands
Joy and sadness mixed
Memories of the past
Hopes for the future

— Barbara Free

Excerpted from the January 2010 edition of the Operation Identitiy Newsletter
© 2010 Operation Identity