When, after a long dry spell,
a cloudburst breaks over the Mojave,
for days afterward
the sand is dotted with color,
tingles with tiny exquisite blossoms,
and desert insects move busily among them.
Two weeks hence,
the memory of that precious downpour
stirs in the dreams of seeds
resting beneath the shifting grains
as they parch,
awaiting another distant, drenching dew
and barren to a casual eye.
What a beautiful picture you've painted here of life stirring in the unseen. I love how you use the word "exquisite" to add to the imagery of the tiny new blossoms. Very nice. Truly talented.
ReplyDeleteI'm also impressed with your knowledge of Latin. Sometimes I think I'm the only Latin/Ancient Greek freak about (save for my children).
Thanks so much for reading and, especially, commenting, Samantha—I'm impressed at a reader with a classical education! I hope I won't fall too far in your estimation if I confess I've not studied Latin, only sung it (a great deal in my lifetime...) Sometimes, though, an idea just thinks better in another language for me.
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