Cynthia Anderson
Watching a cactus grow…
takes all the time in the world, but that’s exactly what I have. A furry nub pokes from a cleft in crumbling monzogranite. Spindly as a spider, it gradually becomes a stick, then a cross when the first joints form. Years of crucifixion pass, but after a few good rainy seasons, the cholla rallies, sprouting more arms than an octopus. In windstorms, it throws down spiny clumps that scatter and sometimes root. Among its peers in the hillside colony, barbs backlit in the blazing sun, the upstart has proven its grit.
we happy few—
inside and outside
the kitchen window
the Mojave’s
storied survivors
About the Author
Cynthia Anderson has published 13 poetry collections, most recently The Far Mountain (Wise Owl Publications, 2024) and Arrival (Sheila-Na-Gig Editions, 2023). She has lived in California for over 40 years. See more of her work at www.cynthiaandersonpoet.com.