Last Leg of Summer I

The storms come into Tucson like tourists: from the North, South, East and West. They stomp into town, don’t stay very long, and although their impact seems huge during the stay, it’s like they were never here once they’ve gone.

The sky turns yellow, and the light that touches everything and wallows everything is like fall-out. It is all technicolour and

creepy, and everyone’s skin tone is off. Everyone has grey eyes.

And then the lightning starts, and the tiny hairs that line your

neck, your baby hairs, stand on end with the static electricity. After

that, the sky rumbles and shakes the windows with its whip cracking.

The clouds collide blindly and crack open, like eggs. And the desert opens its mouth to swallow the rain.

That is the way the desert works during the last leg of the summer. The sun blazes relentlessly throughout the day, and just before the afternoon turns to evening, the clouds wait behind the starting line. They wait to stampede in and turn the desert into a different place.

And the animals know it even before the sky does. The animals feel the ground grow restless waiting for its rare shower. The animals

Scurry around seeking shelter hours before the sky grows dark. And the desert people smell it. They change a little. And their ears prick up. And for the rest of that night, they won’t be the same.

That is the way the desert works during the last leg of summer. The trees buzz with summer cicadas that are always heard and rarely seen. The snakes sit motionless in the sun, and before evening the sky is thick with blue and clear, and every eye can see for miles. At night, during thunderstorms,

The arc of the Earth’s sphere is obvious in the lightning, and when the sky lights up, every eye can see for miles.

And the people dream of winters to come as credit cards melt in cars, and dogs pant in the shade. As children discover the fun of a backyard with sprinklers, and waves of heat are caught rising from the pavement. People look out windows instead of going outside. Cats sleep curled in dark corners, lulled by the cicadas that never stop. And even at night when the sky darkens and falls to the ground in fits, the people dream of winters to come.

That is the way the desert works during the last leg of summer.