A sharp breeze from the southwest snaps flags—reminders of Presidents’ Day and the aftermath of recent rain showers. White clouds pool in mountain crevices—fluffy bowls of whipped cream or meringue. Sunshine breaks through, coaxing the dogs and I to cross the street in an attempt to offset desert chill. Black crows that circle overhead caw furiously. Sparky and Zoe bark back as though to protect me but I press onward, ignoring the chaos, and I consider how nature gives freely of her beauty.
rainy winter days
rare but pregnant with promise
carpets of color
In the years when we are blessed with abundant rain, the desert floor blooms forth, splashing color everywhere.
Written for and posted to dVerse Haibun Monday where Kanzen Sakura asks us to consider how the best things in life are free.
Yesterday was the final day of National Poetry Month and today, the first of May, is the last day of our desert sejour. By participating in Robert Lee Brewer’s daily challenge, I was able to write a poem most every day. I’d have to say that this little piece of the world (Palm Desert) provides ample inspiration: the snow-capped mountain tops, the colors of sunrise and sunset, abundant flora and birds. While most of our hemisphere moves into spring, the desert inches its way toward summer weather with temperatures predicted for the 100’s next week. The flowers are fading and the grass is not quite so lush.
When we get back to Reno, we will plunge back into early spring and all the unpredictabilites of the northern Sierra weather (it snowed last week). The garden will scream for attention. The business of packing up to go home will be replaced by the craziness of daily routines and annual appointments…catching up on reality. It’s not so easy to find time to write or to touch into creativity in a place like this, but so many writers and poets manage to do so wherever they are, whatever their responsibilities. Kudos to us for pursuing our passion, our divine life purpose.
This year in the desert, it’s been Mockingbird who captured my attention. In American Indian tradition, Mockingbird comes into our lives to remind us that we are called to recognize and sing our Sacred Song. I’ll miss the reminders, the lilt of it’s call, but hope to remember the gifts of the desert.