At the beginning of March I flew to Phoenix for a national conference. Three weeks ago Coronavirus was but an annoying blip on the radar. And I needed a dose of warm weather and sunshine.
Winter Rain
A desert monsoon blindsides me,
batters me as I bob and weave
beneath resort overhangs like a quail
seeking shelter under prickly pears.
Slate-grey clouds strip days of warmth,
give lie to the moniker "Valley of the Sun."
Drenched, I pause before a door
that will not open.
Rain ricochets as cactus wrens
across the way huddle in saguaros
with no need for room keys nor rain gear.
Sniffles plague my head
like the storm rolling across the Southwest,
and the niggling possibility of Coronavirus.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
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