Monsoon Season
As night fell on the Valley of the Sun,
I remember when I was little,
In the last remaining weeks of Summer
The city's lights would flicker.
Much brighter lights than city ones
Parted the nighttime skies,
They scurried atop the Valley's world
So bright they'd blind the eyes.
The scent of rain and rushing water
No one would dare ignore.
Unless, of course, they had a death wish,
And stood before its roar.
The wind would make the palms bow low,
So low they touched the ground.
They dared not stand against the wind
This judgment, it proved sound.
But as the rain and wind and lightning
Ended its nightly reign,
To walk out in the lawn in the darkness
No we could not abstain.
To smell the scent of Monsoon Season
Its sweet and fragrant air,
How it replenishes the desert
And gives cool drink to her.
Now it has been more than two decades
From when I saw the rain,
I'm sure that Phoenix is much larger
Than it was back then.
But I cannot imagine now,
That place without the storms.
The scent and fragrance of the rain,
The glory of Monsoon.