Joseph P. DiMino Poet Free verse

Southwest

It was a soft rain -- yes, I stated soft,
for rain has many texture -- some even
color.  Imagine a spectrum-brush dragged 
across a well wetted, primed sky, which 
muted technical, dully call~ a Rainbow. 

It was a long anticipated rain:
Saguaro Sentinels weary, dryly
on guard -- bristled their natural pins and needles

A night, of many, thirsty
dark folds, imbibing deeply:
Desert craving saturation -- 

Just beyond the dawn tomorrow
if not for some minor residue dew
the blessing will again be entirely gone -- 
witness the browning green hint of 
a brief gully front lawn --

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Joe Maverick September 9, 2025 at 10:37 PM An unsullied gully, green for a brief while, gives me a glimpse into your Arid-zone-a And a smile across the Miles.' Joseph P. DiMino September 10, 2025 at 6:17 AM Probably very similar to where you are, or have spent much time. Today, one can't go by outward appearances...so much of what shines and sparkles to most people, I see as sullied and worthless. Thank you, Joe. A world of trinkets, showy baubles.

Kim Rodrigues September 7, 2025 at 8:09 PM Crazy weather! Joseph P. DiMino September 8, 2025 at 5:49 AM Got to be crazy to live here. Great place for writers and artists of all other sorts!:))

sara Etgen-Baker September 7, 2025 at 5:51 PM You truly captured the essence of the desert with your imagery (Saguaro Sentinels weary, dryly) I remember those desert downpours from our time in El Paso....too much rain too quickly...things were seriously dry the next day...ah, the dust! :-) Joseph P. DiMino September 8, 2025 at 5:52 AM Do you miss it, though, once in awhile? I really love the Southwest. Only been back to New York once in the last 40 years. Though grateful I was fortunate enough to have grown up there. A different education and meditation. A writer needs experience, contrast. Have a great writing week my friend. Blessings.

Hilda Greenhough September 7, 2025 at 12:10 PM Deserts are special but we get a lot of sun when we live in one. Your poem is an accurate glimpse at a ruthless desert downpour. Joseph P. DiMino September 7, 2025 at 1:15 PM Not to be conquered without destroying intrinsic, natural greatness. Best to adjust and graciously survive. Thank you, Hilda. Have a beautiful day!

CayCay Godwin September 7, 2025 at 10:53 AM Some riveting imagery is in your poem, really enjoyed the read. Poetry hugs ... CayCay Joseph P. DiMino September 7, 2025 at 1:16 PM Hi CayCay. Thank you. Wishing you a wonderful writing day!

Victor Buhagiar September 7, 2025 at 8:45 AM Hi Joe, perfect thought on rain. I try not to walk in it. Afraid of colds. Joseph P. DiMino September 7, 2025 at 9:51 AM Hi Victor; thank you. Health is first priority. Most things I can still do, but I do with intelligent moderation. Have a great writing weekend my friend.

Anne-Lise Andresen September 7, 2025 at 4:50 AM - "Desert craving saturation" ... we never have that feeling here ... we have a lot of rain in Norway - A great poem, Joe :) - hugs Joseph P. DiMino September 7, 2025 at 9:59 AM I doubt that my sinuses could handle it. Though, having grown up on the East Coast, I use to love the ocean. My first art love, was painting, until poetry blotted everything else out. The sea and coast wonderfully appealing subjects. Now though, the sun, even hot is hell, makes my head and bones feel better. I keep telling myself, that when I run out of things to say, I will go back to painting (pastels really my evolved favorite medium) -- but the well seems to keeping filling the bucket. So, whatever, it is all good. You mix the two admirably. Blessings my friend. Have a great weekend.