All The Things Santa Ana Left Us...
The mountains so pretty,
Green after a fresh rain,
Golden when dry,
Boulder-strewn and dotted,
They underscore the sunsets,
Orange-purple-indigo reach for the fading sun.
The winds so fierce,
Blowing hot and dry,
Bellowing like a politician,
Stoking the hellfires we dread.
The humming birds so nimble,
Around us they flit and flutter,
Hover above our flowers,
Red caps and green vests,
We feed them sugar-water,
Giving thanks for blooming fruit.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
© 11/12/2018