In a desert where

Rabbits, bleached brown like dying dreams,
lie still in nests of parched grass,
leaving flattened forms behind
when they go underground
to bake in their dry and dusty warrens.

Grounded grackles pant in the shade
casting golden-eyed glares heavenwards
at the blaring blue sky that never changes:
summer’s white noise.

The sun-cooked air
forge-hot, anvil heavy
drives down
day after day
ceaseless

The maddening sun
drives down
upon all.

We pray for relief

Until

one day

the clouds roll in

the atmosphere thickens
till you could wear it like a T-shirt

Thunderheads look like trouble
mute lightning winks at us, though,
the warm-up act for the headliner everyone’s been waiting for—




The rain arrives with a sound like applause.

Sodden rabbits run helter-skelter
nest-fretters no more

Rainbow-edged grackle wings
churn the cool air. 
Ah, ah, they croak.

We abandon our air-conditioned walls
chins tilted to the sky

Prayers have been answered.
It is time to soak.