Echos of Rain

Upon the canyon's long rust-red walls,
Where ancient whispers cling to sun-baked stone,
An echo haunts, when desert thunder calls,
Of rain long past, a memory overgrown.

No silver sheet now streaks the thirsty air,
No rushing torrent fills the arroyo's bed,
Yet phantom droplets shimmer everywhere,
A whispered cadence, though the clouds have fled.

The canyon mouth, a silent, gaping maw,
Recalls the deluge, how it once did roar.
A sonic ghost, defying nature's law,
The sound of water, though it falls no more.

So dry earth dreams of solace, cool and deep,
While phantom echoes in the canyon sleep.

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Tripod Location for Echos of Rain

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