Golden glow lays over the land
Praying mantis walks up the window
Storm clouds gently glide through azure
months of nothing
six inches below normal
suddenly late afternoon
three waterfalls off canyon cliff
birds sing evensongs
and now this
Raging wind gone still
Mockingbird carols to Sunset
Dusk whispers to Night
Tan grass stretches miles and miles as far as eyes can see.
The water in the indigo bird bath evaporates in one day.
Playa lakes, full last summer, surrounded then in emerald grass, lay waterless.
Thirty-five miles an hour winds create fog-like clouds of dust across the horizon.
Grit, wind hurled, buffets cars and trucks driving down the long, straight highways.
Dust-fed sunrises and sunsets clad skies in orange, hot pink, vermillion, violet, mauve.
Day 127 with no measurable precipitation.
Note: I wrote this ten days ago. That evening it rained .01 inches. None since then. We are approaching four months with just that .01 inches, nothing more. Every time it warms and the winds come, the weather forecast mentions high fire danger. All counties and state parks near here have burn bans. March is a windy month.
wind stills, an unusual calm settles
geese fly so low, the whir of wings floats earthward
two hoot owls call, haunting echoes in the canyon
cerise, vermillion, amber encompass the land
a chill creeps slowly through ancient junipers
owl hoots, perches atop a dead juniper
fire and cerise sunsets
autumn chill floats through the air
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