I haven’t always loved the desert, but I’ve always loved the rain. No matter what place on earth I find myself, stormy skies are where I feel at home. Because rain is more than weather to me. Rain represents both peace and clarity, chaos and confusion. It is both loneliness and comfort, a dichotomy of meaning. 

In the downpour, it’s easy to find words for many emotions. But I don’t always stop to listen. Some days I’m plagued by worldly worries, such as wet shoes and bad drivers. My kids always need my attention, leaving little room for creative work. Listening to the beauty around me becomes an afterthought, usually once I’m too tired to begin.

Today, I’m trying harder to listen again.

As the monsoon season begins in the Sonoran Desert, my creative mind comes alive with the thought of rain. So, I’ve collected a few of my writings from over the years celebrating the beauty of our desert storms.

Read the blog post “Monsoon Season in Tucson” here.

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Watching the Rain From an Attic Window

I have an excellent view of the rain from up here
This small attic window that overlooks the street
Has a really spectacular picture frame
I can see the little droplets falling down
In lukewarm showers that quickly
Cover the ground and turn the sidewalk black
They begin to fall harder and I hear the pat-patter
They make as they hit the roof
My chalk drawings from earlier this afternoon
Are washed from the driveway and the falling rain
Leaves me a clean canvas to work on tomorrow
The rest of the earth is also washed clean
As the droplets meet the pavement
In their dance of life and rebirth
The downpour comes even faster as the clouds thicken
This is more than just a little summer shower
Everything and everyone is rushing to find shelter
They no longer want to stand in the rain
But instead wait out the storm
The trees grow more refreshingly vivid with every darkening second
And the yellow street signs stand out even more
Against their dreary background
All of this, of course, I can observe
As I sit, tucked away, upstairs
I can see it all from this attic window
Unfolding before my eyes

Unless There’s Rain

The time between lunch and dinner
Too late to begin something new
Too early to retire
And too sunny to be called dull
Is the worst part of the day
I hate afternoons
Like I hate sleeping too late
The groggy slowness
Of a slackened circadian rhythm
Is like being drunk on boredom
Unless there’s rain
In the storm, everything is new
All is bright and beautiful
And seen through a new set of eyes
Suddenly, with rain,
The afternoon becomes a game
Of how many ideas slip past
Before I snatch one from the air

I love the evenings
When the birds become active before bed
And the sun dusts the world in gold
When the air cools
And the scent of desert flowers surrounds me
In a haze of peaceful quietude
There is nothing so beautiful as evening
Caught between the setting sun and mountaintops
Unless there’s rain
In the storm, everything is crisper
All seems more poignant on my tongue
And the life of dusk is amplified
To a level of clarity unreachable
By the standard state of mind

Like poetry and folk music
I also savor loneliness
As the elixir of life
For when I cannot think
Due to chaos abounding
I close up to enjoy the solitude
Inside my mind
The deep silence of being alone
Compares to no earthly pleasure
Because listening intently for the Voice of God
Strips away all barriers and walls
Unless there’s rain
In the storm, everything feels lost
Amid a tidal wave of confusion
The crashing inundation never ceasing
For a moment’s breath
Suddenly, with rain,
Loneliness is no longer my friend
But something to be feared
Because when I’m isolated from the world
With the winds pressing in around me
I am lost
And my mind is no longer a place of escape
But a prison

When it rains, all I can do
Is put up walls
And hope that the storm will soon pass
Because rain is beautiful
But sometimes it drowns me
Like reaching out to feel arms around me
And instead finding only the echo of my voice
In empty halls where there is no one
Where even the light seems too dark
To fill up this space in my soul
Unless there’s rain,
I cannot see how alone I truly am
And how desperately I need someone

Missing Home

If I had a drop of water
For every time I think of you
I would make it rain in excess
Over the desert and all the dry places
Feeding the thirst of the land
With my desire to be near you
There would be flowers
In shades of pink and orange
And the aroma of life after rain
The skies would sing
Along with the birds
And the breeze would bid you to listen
I would paint you a sunset so stunning
That all you can do is be overwhelmed
Because the sight of brushstrokes
Over rugged terrain
With palm tree silhouettes
Is enough to make me cry
Just thinking of you seeing it
Without me there

Monsoon Season Begins

I step outside and venture towards the mailbox
Awaiting words of advice on a subject in which I’m hopelessly lost
And a single drop of water hits my arm
Suddenly, in less than an instant
The heat of the day transforms into water
And I have seconds to find shelter
Before a wave of droplets cascades to the ground
The rain begins
I sit under the ramada with my dog,
Who recently decided to be my best friend,
As if knowing what I lack precisely
We watch the droplets fall to the ground
At 45 degree angles to the horizontal
The desert tortoise lumbers out from his home in the laundry room
And begins nosing around the concrete
Not minding the rain,
He ambles about, searching for greens,
Searching for life

I am always struck by the resilience
Of a desert tortoise
It wanders around, uncaring of life
Finding joy in the small things like weeds and watermelon
Yet is resistant to danger
The dog comes over to say hello, but he pulls into his shell
And waits for her to leave
When life gets too cold and winter comes
He hides inside himself, asleep, and patiently awaits the sun again

Sometimes I feel like I spend too much time
Waiting for summer to arrive
And here, caught up in a storm of stereotypes
That accurately describe my personality
I realize that perhaps I spend too much time thinking
That maybe, in order to catch someone as wonderful as you
I need to stop playing it safe
Because sometimes, by being scared of thunder
And running inside as one boom resounds,
We miss out on the rainbow shining through the clouds,
The air glittering like your eyes when you smile

Beans

How tightly the beans cling
To the trellis,
Vines winding skyward with abandon
Inseparable from the dark metal
That supports them
For months I’ve watered,
Tended and cared,
Offering what little expertise I have
To aid in their survival
And have watched in awe
As the fruit of careful labor
Emerged from empty soil
Strong now, they are sturdy
And able to grasp their lifeline
With ease

Except a monsoon blew in

Now the trellis—
Laden with vines—
Rests helplessly on the earth
Which leaves me to ponder
How clinging tightly
To the wrong thing
Won’t help us survive
The storm

Dear Tucson

The rains have fallen for days on end
Exacerbated by Hurricane Odile
And your skies have held a perpetual gray
Your mountains are continually shrouded in mist
And your earth smells fresh and new

I have a new feeling of belonging when the rain hits
Because no one else knows what to do
It seems like the end of the world with apocalyptic flooding
In the chaos, I find my place

I breathe in the new life of the ground
And feel the coolness of the fog
I am surrounded by music of the mind
Because flowers and gray skies go hand in hand
And birdsong meets the ear
Amidst gentle downpour
The distant palm trees are silhouetted
Not by sunset, but by onsetting storm
And still they are beautiful
You are beautiful

And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long
To realize how I love you

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