Eighty degrees in Phoenix,
the desert landscape
decorated with pinks, yellows, purples
of queen’s wreath and bougainvillea,
their light fragrance stifled by traffic fumes.
Then up the hill through
fields of tall, thick saguaro
lifting their three to five or so arms
in salutation. And then
flashing signs on Arizona high country
warning motorists of winter weather.
Switching off the AC, careful on the black ice,
but my eyes lingering as long as possible
on snowy cover, tall pines with bright blue backdrop.
Then popping out on lower ground,
reddish orange earth
contrasting pale heavens
with whip cream clouds hovering low.
Stopped in Kayenta to gas up
where the wind nearly blew my jacket off.
Then on to other worldly rock formations
gray monoliths, red, then sandy mesas.
Then back to where the mountains
meet the desert in Southwest Colorado,
the sky uncharacteristically gray,
with the smell of rain in the air.
This morning, I restart my life
where sunshine from the east
and clouds in the west
seem to dare each other.