Theres a cold front blowing through,
rain comes to the desert for a shortened spell.
The sky turns grey from it's electric blue,
the desert willow is loosing it's bells.
Sand is blowing through the sky,
chasing the residents to their dens.
Ravens and crows choose not to fly,
and neither do the desert hens.
Snakes and Iguanas leave the wash,
knowing deep down in their tiny brains,
Aware that water will start to rush,
Down the hill with torrential rains
But the scare is brief, and the sun returns,
and a blue sky shines overhead.
And once again the landscape burns,
and the denizens all leave their beds.
A welcome respite, from the burning heat,
tonight the temperatures will drop,
but the cold weather will soon quit,
Winters short lease at last is up.
5/23/10 29 palms ca.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem