Up in the mountains, where you think it never rains.
Out in the desert, where dessication is the norm.
Down come the rains, and the rivers swell and roar.
A trickle in the mountains, flooding at the foot.
Surging to where streams join, roaring to the desert.
some only flood dry pans, reminding us when they were oceans,
But others roar on down canyons, galloping to the sea.
But Oh the green on those mountains,
after the rainfall passes.
Where life seemed dead and dying,
responding to Gods crying.
how the plants bloom and thrive,
exulting in new growth.
up in the desert mountains,
where you think it never rains.
9/15/2013, inspired by rains in Colorado and New Mexico
Christopher H. Holte