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Puddles
in the Desert
Between the
hot sun, the rolling clouds shrank
Above the
heated blacktop;
Where we
played ball in the long afternoon
Breaking
shots and name calling.
Until the
clouds grew thunderous
And grew
into a wall
And washed
away the heat.
And even
bent the giant saguaro.
The dry
riverbeds, caked and thirsty
Filled to
the brim
Like cold
cups of iced tea
On dry
parched lips.
It’s gaping
maw filled
And all
fell into meditation
While new
life sprang from muddy springs
All
grateful for a moment
Of those
puddles in the desert.
Jeffrey Ross
is finishing a four year degree in English Literature and Native Studies
at Laurentian University. He has lived in Phoenix most of his life but moved
to Sudbury for the warmer weather. Last year he made a brief departure from school
to work as a journalist. His appreciation of writing has lead him to keep practicing
using poetry as a medium. His focus is on Romantic period literature.
Email: Jeffrey Ross
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