Scoop up a handful of dust

From where you’re standing.

Let it slip through your fingers.


Dig a little deeper,

Into the loamy

Dark chocolate of the topsoil.


Deeper still.


You will see the ochre,

Yellows, browns, reds, and purples,

In the clay.


Walk into the jungle.

Everything is green

Until you notice the birds.


White, black, red, yellow, orange.


Fruits, flowers, leaves

In identical colors

Tell you something if you care to know.


Tell you about smells,

About spices, herbs, nuts, and seeds,

About tannin and oils in the bark.


Life is everywhere.


In the open valleys,

On hillsides,

The magic of the chili dwells.


There too the corn is colored,

Gift from the sun and the rain,

Black, purple, yellow, white, blue.


Make a fire inside clay


Dug deep from the earth.

Listen to the colors and smells and tastes.

Fold into each other,


Dance together.


When the broth sings,

When you’ve ground everything

As fine as sand,


Mixed and strained and simmered,

A moment comes like the moment before

A flickering candle dies.


This is when,

If your invitation

Has been accepted,


The mole will arrive.