the desert year

Third Sunday of Advent

Lectionary: 7

When I first moved here
the rains came swift and strong.
It was unusual and unexpected,
much wetter than most years.
And that year the desert became
more like California
the hills splashed in green
grass flourishing and flowers blooming.
When you would drive at 80
along the Bee Line,
the healthy blades would sway with violence
and settle back into their gentle rocking,
pliant and vivacious.
And in the green was a splattering of wild flower
Yellow, violet, and while.
And the air was sickly floral,
rotting yet living.
It was beautiful and strange,
but there was, on some level,
a sense of loss.
Not because new life was blooming
but because my new life was
much like the old.
I had had green and was looking for my
desert year.