Dennis Fitzgerald, 1975 Saint Rita Blvd, Las Cruces, NM, 88001

On Saint Rita's whispers, where shadows play,

1975, his porch, a quiet stage,

Each day he sits, in a silent sway.

The scent of piñon, memories in day,

Hints of chiles, tales from a distant age,

On Saint Rita's whispers, where shadows play.

His porch, a sanctuary, where he may

Escape the echoes of a hidden rage,

Each day he sits, in a silent sway.

In vignettes of mud, faint and gray,

Lost in the folds of history's gauze, a gauge,

On Saint Rita's whispers, where shadows play.

In the rustle of leaves, a soft array,

Whispers secrets of a past engaged,

Each day he sits, in a silent sway.

In the embrace of the land, where shadows stray,

Wind through hopea in the silence, engage,

On Saint Rita's whispers, where shadows play,

Each day he sits, in a silent sway.