National Poetry Month

Arizona

We stop to tame our fears of sand weaving across the road
like lost piano notes under the power of a percussionist’s wind.
The lightning, the rain, a mad orchestra
taunting us to take the next step in this summer storm waltz
a twirl, a bow, a dip, anything to be swept
into the arms of this stately rain as warm as a crescendo’s peak.
And when finally the first bare foot
crunches wet gravel, it could be as smooth as bath water
we wouldn’t notice, for this downpour now paints laughing faces,
forgotten fears, and the night sky.

Nicole Carr

~ by cozet on April 3, 2007.