For Those Who Wonder About the Real Taos
A poem by K.G.
Smell the pinon drifting from your fire
On a winter day
The blue smoke settles like a warm hand upon the valley
Do you know why you’re here?
The hollyhocks will tell you in the spring
Behold the lilies and cone flowers
It is up to you
What you discover in Taos
Beside the Rio Fernando weaving through the farm basin
Follow the burning sage through the pueblo
Sit silently with the squash blossom maiden
Bake bread in the old clay horno
She’ll tell you stories
If you bring the honey
You could, instead, go to the plaza
And say you’ve seen it all here
But that’s not fair to the Mountain
Befriend the mountain
And a gate opens
Even for the touristas and free spirits passing through
Because in Taos we are all children of the Mountain
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