The rain comes madly
and fills ephemeral existence.
There, torpor puddles at night,
impermanent bodies immersed in tricky counterpoint.
They sing in celebration of
coolness and wetness and courage.
Thanks for sharing this idea, Andy! We’re packing for a move and I picked up “Desert Solitaire” by Edward Abbey-already poetic without blacking out. I’ve always meant to read it. I’ve come across and enjoyed many excerpts over the years. — Thorly James