Dry Spell

Each small reservoir in the state
settles into the role of a mud puddle.

The furious music of downpours
is a dusty memory.

The chollas’ opportunistic roots keep it fat
a few weeks longer than the sunflowers.

I recognize nature’s droop
from football games

where we left it all on the field
but lost in the waning seconds.

The sun overheats the air
and allows the rain clouds

to defy gravity
while crossing over the mountains heading east.

copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney

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