Rain in the Desert

I believe the desert is tolerant of rain

It may appear indifferent,
but I imagine it resigned to brief intrusions,
allowing for a brief change of scenery
from time to time.

It has learned to live without water,
and cloaks itself in browns and greys-
asking no compassion for its permanent appearance
It has existed a long arid time without pretense.

Within its bosom, though
are thirsty yearnings -
things which quiver with anticipation
when dark clouds form over the mountains,
and a cool vanguard breeze
reveals a coming storm.

The parched land relents,
allowing a robust encounter
as storms release their deluge-
erasing old trails and rushing through dry arroyos,
in a frenzied dance.

Venerable old desert has seen it all before
and rides it out like a veteran

Patiently waiting:
Exotic colors now spring forth in unbridled joy
finely dressed in a variegated garden,
transforming a wan stage into an opera set.
for a while

Yucca, Saguaro, Desert Rose and Poppies
Join in the elegant array

Then, in time,
like dancers leaving the stage
from a hurried cue,
the flowers make their dewey exit
yielding to the rigid world of sand and stone
under a burning sun
.
***
As evening arrives, the desert makes its bed,
nods to a star- filled sky,
and smiles at the foolishness of roots and flowers