When lightning strikes the Joshua tree
The air is frightfully clear.
The children quiet their
Jacks and Jump ropes
As the suburbia settles it's ears.
An ivy beneath a sycamore tree
Watching a fire with envy.
How on nature's rich, ripe earth
Is there a power
So quick to devour
The beauty and grace of a Joshua tree.
Why is it the branches crumble so
When Ivy's destruction is subtle and slow.
Why do fires spawn sputtered cries
When an English Ivy lays easy on the eyes.
A Mexican woman pours tears to the land.
She cries for the homeless
And weeps for the sand.
She mutters one word that no one will hear
She pleads that you feel it
Without dwindling fear.
When finally sleep comes
The children then stir
As they dream of a fire too bold to endure.
The woman will weep
As the fires grow.
She cries for the Joshua trees,
It's roots and it's leaves,
With a few tears for you,
And a couple for me.