Sonoran Sprung Spring

Glenn Weyant


Sonora baits her hooks these days, with orange blossoms and jasmine petals, in morning transitions of twilight, reclaiming the waking city, our collective delusion of immortal permanence, with cool perfumed breath. In this time of desert spring, the first glow of new day, chasing the darkness from behind the Rincon Mountains, across the celestial dome and into the West, prods into being a chorus birds. Finches join sparrows join flickers join thrashers join woodpeckers join doves join grackles join starlings join quail join hummingbirds in conversation and song. The desert has fleeting seasons and there are barren times when the mind wonders about other places to be. Places with more rain or more snow or more forests or perhaps an ocean stretching as far as the eye can see. Places of new. Places of more. Places of possibility. But just when those thoughts seem to be taking shape, Sonora reels you back in with her perfect storms of wildflowers, distant mountains and the strangely alluring promise of summer's ego draining oven blast and crystal blue sky. Firmly hooked now and dragged under grinning, snug in the swirling vortex of early spring, letting go and spinning, another season beginning, a cup of green tea steaming, winter's lingering questions evaporate like water into the waiting day.