Songs of Hope in a Desolate Tomb

A short, calm run a dog and I went on.

It was neither our first nor the last.

The air was dry and warm that summer dawn.

When I noticed the bloom's vibrant contrast,

Against the desert - dull and desolate.

A likeness to go with disinterest,

Till the yellow bloom told another fate.

With its enchanting song, hope did visit.

A welcomed telling of fruitful pursuits.

No more lamenting seeds that failed to thrive.

Yet a gladdened heart was irresolute,

Because blooms would cease to remain alive.

The Palo Verde's vibrant yellow blooms.

Songs of hope in a dry, desolate tomb.