Desert Paint
The two-lane road stretches
through a shimmering glaze
to the horizon, passing
smokestacks of mesas spewing
clay and maize in vaporous mass.
I hear the sibylline whisper of rain
through emerald brush
and serpentine hiss
of slithering sand.
The acrid smell permeates
evergreen and purple sage,
carries the aroma
with fine dust.
I point my thumb west,
a prayer for a willing traveler
to whisk me away
from the cumulative downpour
when the desert paint
floods umber in the gullies.
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