We get four inches of rain per year.
It’s dry and dusty here
In the Mojave Desert.
I watch the tumbleweed roll on by,
From the window,
In this empty room.
The hot sun beats down.
The stucco cracks, my skin cracks, but I don’t crack,
A smile.
It’s so bright—always so bright
In the Desert.
Except for today.
Today, I see the clouds coming.
The rain droplets start falling.
The precipitation starts pouring,
Down from the grey, grey sky.
“Bye, sun, good-bye.”
I smile now,
Because today will be different.
I open up a window,
So that I can hear the rain falling,
And breathe in that fresh, cool air.
I think about my childhood home,
Where the rain was plentiful,
And when rooms were full of family.
One day
I moved away
From the rain.
I chased sunshine,
And clear days.
I must say,
I found the sun shining brightly
Here in the Desert,
Where rain is rare.
“Blue skies sure are pretty,” I muse, to myself.
As I watch the tumbleweed roll on by,
From the window,
In this empty room.
I miss the rain.
Desert rain is always welcome. It knocks the dust down and the plants seem to come alive as they happily soak up that moisture 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree, it’s like a special gift from the heavens! You know what I’m talking about since you lived in the Desert for a time too. Thanks for your comment Ingrid. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person