Litanies Against Dying, 23 (205.)

Strange calm descends upon the soul.
Trees are taller than my small frame, and the storm clouds
are so inviting.
Can it be cozy outside?
Scent of rain fills brain with happy chemicals.
Water in the desert, better than
manna any day,
wash all the dust and dirt away.
Just for now –
the dust is always part of us,
we desert rats,
and we’ll scurry all our lives
and still shine with glistening fur.

Amen to the moody mountains,
letting the clouds pass.
Amen to the fickle winds,
ushering everyone to the proper spots.

Amen, amen, amen to the sagebrush,
always thirsty and
dancing frantically for drinks.


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