Sun Shower

Sun Shower

In springtime, by sunset, your hands should smell
of dirt, incense and woods, a drop of mildew.
Here, in this seasonless diaspora,
with alternating cycles of wet and dry,
my palms are arid, deprived of soil.
Sometimes, at sunrise, my concrete garden
cradled in light, the cacti and succulents float
on a haze of lemon-green essence.
A balanced, measured, celebration then for May.
I have reaped from these hours royal time
and the day's sweet residue
dissipates to a splendor of stillness.
I hold the memories of clouds, hills, and missed dance steps.
A sudden sun shower washes away
the rainbow bright chalk hearts in the driveway.
My palms are arid, deprived of soil.


Written for:

Stormy's poetry newsletter & contest  (ASR) poetry newsletter gift point contest #310188 by Stormy Lady