This poem is a thunderstorm raging across the scrubby desert
lightning striking mammoth saguaros, leaving behind
a spectral skeleton to rot in the coming hot summer sun
This poem is the sound of cold plops of rain hitting dry earth.
This poem is a flooding wash, where muddy waters race
forming their own paths leaving behind in their wake,
exposed crystals, minerals, tumbleweeds and gold
This poem is a flooding river in the once arid desert.
This poem is a kaleidoscope of southwestern wildflowers,
where once barren land save for chollas, and cacti is now a
beautiful landscape of opposites, lush blooms and deadly thorns
This poem is the hopeful voice of spring in Arizona.
This poem is a thunderstorm, a desert wash, and wildflowers.
©2019 Linda Lee Lyberg
Wordy Thursday with Wild Woman: Real Toads