Catacamas

I walk through little rows of Provo houses,
Soft colors in the starry night,
And I ache
For Catacamas:
Adobe huts and dirt roads and
Fireflies flickering.
Inside, dying embers float down
And gas lamps burn.
Flashlights swing limp
In the moonlight that guides
Tired feet through wild grass
As peace falls thick as dew.

This is my favorite that I have written and true tonight, except I am no longer in Provo.

Catacamas at sunset--I lived at the foot of the hill this photo was likely taken from.

















Catacamas in the day: