a gates pass saguaro

it will live longer than all of us,
tell longer stories,
sleep longer nights.

we will be gone before this cactus,
this giant,
even branches out:
its arms and height like testaments
to its decades of wisdom
and of growth.

roots sprawl out below the saguaro,
a hidden network,
a survivor’s guide,
a system of its support.

I wonder if we listened more closely,
how much we might learn —
not just delighting in its blooms,
but taking note:
of how to accept,
how to thrive,
how to grow without knowing
when you’ll see the rain
and its relief again.