I wrote this poem a couple of years ago after witnessing a flash flood in the extremely rugged Kofa Mountains of southwestern Arizona. It boiled up fast, hit hard, and then was gone:


 (Act I)

Plant are torched

The earth is scorched

The sun moves 'cross the sky


The wind blows hot

Relief there's not

Just sage and alkali


The peaks are jagged

Grotesquely ragged

Lined up in row after row


Rock and sand

Ungracious land

A place of dread and woe


Ravines cut deep

Their walls so steep

Like twisted, snaking scars


Sky are clear...

...than clouds appear

You can see them from afar




(Act II)


Full of dread

Storm front rolling in


Flash of light

Terrible site

Then the storm begins


Sheets of rain

Cannot drain

Ground as hard as stone


Soon a flood

A wall of mud

The desert seems to moan


Quickly done

It's course is run

The clouds are on the go


And in their place

By God's good grace

Is stretched a colored bow