A Summer Rain

A Summer Rain

She came raging from the east, where the dawn painted the superstitions in hues of magnificent purples and golds.

Her fury grows rapidly as she glides along the desert floor, pulling at the earth, raising it to the sky in great crescendo.

Smashing the Mesquite, cracking the Ironwood and threatening to rip the saguaro violently from her home.

Enveloped in gray, the sky explodes electric wrath, a down pour floods a starving desert floor, pounding the sand, the clay and the people into submission.

All but her cease to move but as quickly as she came, a tumultuous violent darkness, she slips away, maybe returning to the stillness of the mountain.

I am humbled and the desert blooms.