Friday, March 30, 2007
"Monsoons"
Monsoons come early this year.
We witness them
sailing across the desert
from miles out,
dark thunderheads billow
with hidden destruction,
perfect lightening bolts
strike the ground
like the hand of Zeus.
Shameless,
the rain soaks
the dry, cracked earth
baked hard by a long summer.
It feels like sandpaper,
looks of Spanish tile.
The gulches and washes
fill with raging, muddy waters,
debris splinters the banks,
decimating the land
before our hungry eyes.
We wait eager
for the rains to steal away
so we could take the horses out,
run them like bullet trains
on fresh mud,
breathe deep the scent
of wet sagebrush and yellow bells.
Our bodies mold to the horses
riding bareback in the aftermath
with greedy grins on our faces.
pushing them to their limit,
pushing our own limits
not only racing each other
but the next storm on the horizon.
Aleathia Drehmer 2006
Published by Hecale 7/07
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