We love rain in desert Arizona.
The smell as it quiets the dust,
Bringing a coolness to the sky and city,
Seeing it soak and steam on the sidewalks,
Feeling wetness as we stretch our fingers out
To touch tiny moist raindrop miracles.
Rain, noble rain!
In Arizona,
In June.
Cerita M. Hewett
June 5, 2015
Revised July 6, 2015
The percussionists from the band
Did not get a lot of sleep last night,
And neither did I.
They started entertaining
About one in the morning and
Continued until six.
The opening movement
Consisted of low timpani slowly
Building to the staccato booms
Of the bass drum.
The second movement
Spotlighted large cymbals crashing,
While snares put together
Their relentless rhythms
On the roof, trees, and ground.
And the final movement
Featured the gradual
Retiring of the snares,
One clang of the small cymbals,
A silver tinkling of the bells,
Then three slow booms on the big bass drum,
And a gentle pom, pom, pom, by the timpani.
The early morning sun
Revealed a sparking world,
Gleaming in rain soaked trees,
And silvery grass.
But, as I said to begin with,
The percussionists from the band
Did not get a lot of sleep last night,
And neither did I.
Cerita M. Hewett
April 2014