by Lorraine Caputo

I awaken in the twilight
of dawn, pallid scarlet bleeding
across the sky like an
aquarelle in the rain

& sense the presence
of my dreams
mute, distant
Deep shadows

I leave them behind
glancing over my shoulder
heeding the light
of day

Dreams glimmer
beyond another cloud-
muted dawn

I reach for their colors

but they dissolve
in my grasp

Droplets evaporating
leaving behind not a stain
in my awakened mind

the dreams still 
lie hidden, dull
far away

one, though
has left a 
muddled print
in this morning’s memory

In the yet-night
dreams hum
barely audible
Indigo twilight, the soft

palette of a further
day & birdsong
in the garden

Traveling Down a Country Lane Someplace in the Mountains of Northern Peru

We are all going
our own routes on this
eucalyptus-scented way

The lad herding
a dozen sheep of
dun-white fleece
down the muddy road

The chapped faces above
the stockades of
heavy trucks,
bodies swathed in
thick wraps

The women in tall-crowned,
broad-brimmed hats, ponchos
swaying, full saddlebags
over one shoulder,
twisting wool on hand spindles,
fleeing our approach

& us, in this rattling
white wagon, music playing,
crammed on seats & in back,
a piglet & a big sack
of potatoes

The cloudy-eyed man feeling
the road with his stick,
pants rolled shin-high,
bare feet caked with earth

Lorraine Caputo is a wandering troubadour whose poetry appears in over 200 journals on six continents, and 14 chapbooks – including On Galápagos Shores (dancing girl press, 2019). She also authors travel narratives, articles and guidebooks. Ms. Caputo journeys through Latin America, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth. Follow her adventures at www.facebook.com/lorrainecaputo.wanderer or http://latinamericawanderer.wordpress.com