The cacti stood serene above us. Their limbs and fronds and flowers rose into the tender blue of the sky. Birds called across the depths below the roadway.
I grope to describe what I felt, there in the haunting depths of nature on our drive through eternity. A finer poet than I will ever be captured my sentiment long before I came to this place of majesty.
It’s the twelfth day of the sixty-fourth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.
There Will Come Soft Rains
Taken at Saguaro National Park, East; 12 April 2019.
With special thanks to my tour guide, Pat Reynolds.