Monsoon Season

Monsoon season,
The storm rolls in off the desert.
 Blue sky overhead,
Cirrulean in its depths,
thunder heads gathering all around, 
A splash and ripple of rainbow  arches
over the edge of the Mogollon rim. 
Standing at the edge of a 2000 foot drop
into a red rock abyss,
as the wind lifts me,
spreading my wings,
soaring on the edge of the tide.
Watching the distant lightning waltz across the desert peaks,
The storm gods grumble to each other and echo through the distant canyons.
 Dust devils dance about me,
As the wind whispers secrets in my ears. 
Grandmother juniper,
bends and sways her aged limbs,
as the cholla flowers, scarlet penstemon,
 and Indian paint brush open to the clouds kiss.
Praying for the distant rain  to touch my upturned face,
 and not turn back before the  earth rises to meet it.

Hearing the call,
I watch as raven circles below me,
Tempting  me to join him on the updrafts.
I smell the rain coming closer,
The promise of new life.
I lift my face,
Arch my back,
Arms out spread,
And leap into the teeth of the storm.