While in one place there is the whirlwind of line dancing, at least six different one’s, in another place friends are helping a friend to pack. She’ll honk when she leaves town with her truck of possessions. She lived her life the way it was supposed to be. Like so many of us, there was a man and child
ren. Some of it good, bad times too, like so many of us. She changed, made mistakes, missed the right or left turn – But she keeps looking for whom, for what. ‘What’ is what she found first, deep in mud… Then s
he might find ‘whom’, to dare to share with. Thus we met, thus you leave. Keep following the road with heart, keep the flame alive, travel well, and fill your eyes with dreams and a whirlwind of happiness.
ren. Some of it good, bad times too, like so many of us. She changed, made mistakes, missed the right or left turn – But she keeps looking for whom, for what. ‘What’ is what she found first, deep in mud… Then s
he might find ‘whom’, to dare to share with. Thus we met, thus you leave. Keep following the road with heart, keep the flame alive, travel well, and fill your eyes with dreams and a whirlwind of happiness.
RAIN IN THE DESERT
ReplyDeleteEach raindrop is a miniature universe, at it's core is a grain of matter, much like a grain of sand seeds a pearl in an oyster.
The moisture in the atmosphere coalesces about billions of tiny grits of sand, forming billions of
raindrops, which become rainstorms.
So rainstorms can be considered to be wet sandstorms. The water in the raindrops nourishes dormant desert seeds, and provides refreshing showers for dusty lizards.
The grits of sand at the core of each raindrop replace the grits of matter that sandstorms have blown into the noses, mouths, ears and eyes of people caught outside in sandstorms, and infected with horrific diseases caused by the dessicated feces of infected mice, such as the hanta virus.
Thus does the desert renew itself, and the occasional rainbow perched above the barren cliffs lull observers into a sense of peace, and wonder, and beauty, distracting them from the biotic dangers of the storms.
The desert gods do their work in mysterious ways, only understood by native shamans and the wise coyote.
Don't miss DESERT STORMS, BANE OR BOON?, a poem by the Chloride Sage.