I noticed the ground never felt a drop.
The dictionary has a word to describe that phenomena
but I am at a loss for its first syllable.
I wondered if the parched vegetation
found this funny and laughed
with the reassembling clouds.
Heat rose from the granite.
It bent the air and formed its own
dry rainbows with dust.
It is silly of me to bicycle old US highways
across the continental divide
under such conditions,
but nothing much will change
until next month and I wish
to be home in Albuquerque come Tuesday.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney