Even on this summer morning,
I feel the coolness of a breeze;
wait patiently for wanted rain,
as I watch the buzzing bees.
They love my trumpet vine,
as do the hummingbirds;
in the distance, thunder rumbles,
like soft,  unspoken words.
The humid air feels strange,
on these desert, arid plains;
the sun is gaining strength,
as the coolness,  wanes.
Summer breezes cool again,
the monsoon weather's here;
hail, dust and gusty winds,
and not much rain, I fear.
But I'm an optimist,
full of faith and hope;
even if it never comes,
I always seem to cope.
Summer days are warm or hot,
and summer days are fickle;
grayish clouds are forming,
by God- I think I hear it trickle.