Moisture hangs heavy in the low, dark clouds and the desert awaits the galloping storm,
but the scent of rain can be deceiving.
Desert winter slips and slides like a rattlesnake, over craggy mountains as it seeps deep into canyons.
Sometimes, like the furry steps of a tarantula, it caresses the desert's skin gently, yet deceptively dangerous as the drops begat drops,
birthing a torrent of rushing water that silently crashes thru far away arroyos
until it explodes indiscriminately into suburban towns and sophisticated cities.
Rain drops, like quail leading their young, dance on pavement and parched earth,
branches and debris bobble atop the brown, murky water careening thru cement channels, dissecting interstate and dusty roads.
And then, the far away canyons become hushed as clouds, like diminutive lizards, silently glide and slide away
Gushing turns to trickling as life-giving rain escapes
and desert winter returns to purity
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