A Santa Fe Storm - Poem by David Wright
Evening, and I watch the sky
from the portal of an old adobe
on Agua Fria Street.
The clouds roll from
the Jemez to drench the city
with what the Navajos call male rain.
Evening blends to night
and the storm stays,
but softer now
as rain turns white.
Lightning, thunder, and the softness, softness
of new snow make strange skyfellows.
As I admire the backlighting
I rejoice in my good fortune.
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