Lluvia is the Spanish word for rain. Now that the wet season has come to Oaxaca, the rain falls most days—and it is sweet. The dry, brown landscape so brittle, hears the thunder and opens its arms to embrace the downpour. The earth has softened and breathed again, changing from brown to green.
Typically, the rain arrives with the clouds that roll in during late afternoon and evening. Temperatures are cooler, and water cleanses all it touches. I like it. The sun always come out again but the earth is rejuvenated and never gets bone dry. Plants that I thought were dead are showing verdure and unique beauty. It is like a phoenix rising from ashes.
My phoenix long ago secured
His nest in sky-vault's cope;
In the body's cage immured,
He is weary of life's hope.
Round and round this heap of ashes
Now flies the bird amain,
But in that odorous niche of heaven
Nestles the bird again.
Once flies he upward, he will perch
On Tuba's golden bough:
His home is on that fruited arch
Which cools the blest below.
If over this world of ours
His wings my phoenix spread,
How gracious falls on land and sea
The soul-refreshing shade!
Either world inhabits he,
Sees oft below him planets roll;
His body is all of air compact,
Of Allah's love his soul.
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