Desert Dreaming
Expect a turning
in the pointless path,
a sign scratched
on a rock,
a curving bed of stones
that marks
an ancient creek
and suddenly
a garden and an inn.
Expect wild roses
on a dirt-brown road,
jonquils swaying
over sand, crocus blossoms
watered by a stream,
fig trees flowering
with their crowns of bees.
Expect a dance
from bare December stumps,
a litany from blackened leaves,
shoots sending forth
a healing hymn,
a hope-filled prayer.
Paula Papky