Soaking the sun in Arizona. Oh, how it feels so good. Warm to my skin, touch me now. Press lightly on pink until cream paints to blush. Butterfly wings tattooed across the bridge of my nose.
The desert dances a recital to melodies my ears and eyes rarely hear or see. Imaginary tunes of sharp in unusual shapes of cactus land or dreams of an orchestra conducting sherbet colors across a spectacular sunset in an endless sky. Look! Northern Lights rising above peaks of mountain tips.
Leaves do not drop from trees. Palms of olive sway slightly, first to the left than to the right in the warmth of a breeze. Cactus’s sprout short or tall, or prickly balls in large and small sit on top of dusty soil. Puckered lips, blow some dust. Poof! One would never know a single speck had even disappeared. Nature’s trick you see.
I’ve been to the desert many times, lived in it years ago, bore a child here and began to raise babies near the colored sand. Still, each and every time I visit for a second or a minute there is something new to see. A cactus never seen before. Flowers sprouting wild in nothing more than rusted dust. Liquid dribbling where one would swear forever dry. Turn your head, SURPRISE! Hidden in the grass are bunnies larger than soon-to-be Easter Rabbits!
Newly discovered memories to pocket for my St. Louis home.