Rain, My Love

It rains now in the desert
and is blessed each drop to fall
tumbling, writhing ecstatic
sought and devoured
and rivulets on the parched earth.

It rains now
sweet, moist fragrance
of creosote
rejoins with the heat dominate
and round turned air
consumed.

It rains now
birds silent from the sun, immense,
seek out again.
All senses strain to capture that which is given.
The rain cares not.

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