Blowup

[rejectomorph]

The warm desert wind distracts me and makes me restless, blowing my thoughts to other times and other places. Even when it subsides here for a while, quieting the trees, I can still hear it rushing through the canyon, a harbinger of the oncoming fire season. The last couple of days have begun the dessication of the lawn, which was so green after the storms of December. I imagine the brush of the forest turning brown, too, and mosquitos hatching in the shrinking ponds. Something, mosquito or not, has bitten my leg, which is itching furiously. As much as I've enjoyed this respite from January's accustomed cold, I must insist that winter get back to its business. Like, chill, dude!