Desert rain trickery - Mozaga

the first real rain since May and now it's past winter
the ready perfumes of the desert soil, petrichor

pleasant - sweet, dusty and rich after the heavy afternoon rain 
its moisture releasing spice bouquets

an aromatic memory held in dust during those hottest of months

bringing up the parched earth smell beneath the olive tree 
the droplets of water rousing the fallen olive leaves 
enough to make a moment come back to life in them -
a second once more of something, a moment from when 
they were green and silver, waxy and alive with themselves

but the evening comes to gather this moment
even as we want it to stay, even as we want to be outside:
the desert soil, the olive tree, the hot cana leaves
flowers in the desert moonlight, the shadows of yucca by the gate
whose sharp leaves make a full hand of daggers

black on the grey-coloured ground of the early evening
the ocher and sand colours of this place in daytime
are parts of one colour at night, so that to see them one has to breathe in

and breathing in has that curious effect of rain itself in that moment -

the musty smell rousing us to what we know inside ourselves but keep forgetting

but that is not the end of it, an over-due rainy day turning itself 
into a moist dark night full of moths and other insects
this place is no different from any other, and rain is rain 
here as much as anywhere. But something happens 
in the desert at night after rain has come

we slept a good sleep that night and in the morning

got up and found ourselves standing on the shore of the new world -

we watched, we were careful, and when we pointed at everything 
we were complicit in the rain's great magician trick: 
rain falls down grey then gets up green