She Shakes Chilies from Her Hair

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She shakes red chilies from her hair,

wax black with slight red strands, thick enough

to stand,  hold spicy seasoning until we fall.

Chilies she shakes loose, caught in leaning against red

ristas,    hung loosely on rose adobe walls.

Summer we greet our spiciness     from time before.

Shakes chilies she attracted,    red as wasps,

something winging while she stands swinging

her heavy mane.    Loosing it from flavor, season.

Spice in life rife with something only sisters share.

     Red chilies she shakes from her hair.