as the desert sun grasps
holding your drought,
your growth ordained
to your part of the world
Desert spirits cry to be dampened
yearning for a moments relief,
as the riverbeds of your soul
rough from the carving heat,
lie still in their death
Over the rise the storm is coming,
wailing winds of magnitude strength
levels sparse renewed struggling growth,
as fury slams against the tall cactus
whipping the foreseen seasonal path as the –
raging winds of the monsoon come again
Eigth Place Honorable Mention
Monsoon Poetry Contest
PoetrySoup ~ June 16, 2010