The Sierra Monsoon

Crackling grasses outside the shade of the live oaks.
Not with flame, but you can hear it sizzle in the hot breeze.
Already dry, but now moving towards the dust under foot.
Standing upright, but drooping when pushed.
Parched fibers bursting the heart within.
Quickly waiting with anticipation but only to fall short.
Just cooking in the hot breath as the summer days roll on.
Eventually to give in and lay over.
The lucky ones get to send off their young to jab through fur and socks.

The vapors overhead gathering high.
Frying in the sky's blue skillet like bacon.
Sizzling and crackling into wisps then gone.
Much too hot to form rain.
Gathering from the east, but not over the plains.

Great anvils of white with gray undertones rise from the depths of the desert.
To gather on the ridges and high passes.
Building higher until relinquishing to the hammer's blow.
Only to shift and rise again beyond the blacksmith's keen eye for a moment.
Filling the sky like the frothing of a giant seashore.
Waves breaking on the beach reaching to greet them.
Then spreading out on the sand with a slow roll.
Water flowing uphill in wide swaths.
Until gravity pulls them back.

Underneath, the clams know what is next.
Sudden piercing like daggers to the heart crackle on the electric air.
Molecules of friction entering unannounced.
Darkness shown in the shadows of hills and creases.
The dry grasses shimmer in the blinding light of the frustration that builds.
White with the rage of a hundred lives crushed at once.
Roadrunners and hares scurry for cover, as the shouting continues.
A rain of shame and blame forces itself upon the dust.
Water split apart with brute strength.

The wind slowly dies down.
The rain is left all alone to begin the healing.
The clouds begin to slowly scatter ashamed for their gathering.
But the darkness stays.
Along with the grasses, to live another day.

The monsoon season is upon us.
Storms from the south to cause heartache.
Just enough to bring grief which luckily can be healed.
Some grasses singed at the fringes from the beating.
But they will be back with their green shine again with time.
To blow in the cool breeze.
And to have sunlight bathe them with warmth.
To expose their inner structure to their shadows.