The Young Campesinos
Little person, eyes closed to the sun,
heed the bright announcement: it is late.
You go as we all go, the road leads home
littered with confetti, cascarone
shells crunch, bottles clink, horses neigh.
We parade, eyes closed to the sun,
the Mesa hills hiding the golden horizon.
Don’t let your hungry dog lead you astray.
You go as we all go, the road leads home
between sea and crooked backbone
of California, USA-
was-Mexico-was-Spain-was-Chumash once.
You will go as even these have gone—
life nothing more or less than this parade.
Trust the ones you love to lead you home,
both your shadows stretching into one.
Viva la fiesta! It is late.
You go as we all go. The road leads home
for little person, little dog, and setting sun.
After the Edson Smith Photo Collection Fiesta
Chryss Yost, Ph.D., is a Santa Barbara Poet Laureate (2013-15) and co-editor of Gunpowder Press. Her poems have been widely published in anthologies and journals, most recently in SALT. As a heart attack survivor, she raises awareness about Spontaneous Coronary Artery Dissection (SCAD) and heart health.