Dawn Dancing

Just before the sun crests the jagged mountain ridge,
as a pink throated hummingbird darts from flower to flower,
I will climb a silver ladder to the flat roof of my desert-stucco
home, and there I will wait, impatiently, for a touch on my shoulder.
I will turn, slowly and deliberately, not wanting to appear too anxious,
to be embraced by a fresh morning breeze funneling down
through slot canyons, propelled by deep mountain ravines.

And we will dance.
My invisible, energetic partner.
We will dance into the day.

In time, when the sun's rays flood the valley, warming the
landscape and all living creatures, the dance is done and morning breeze
drifts aimlessly over housetops and stately sagiuaros toward great
columns of brilliant white cloud in the north sky.
The dance is too short.
The departure always abrupt.
But I am grateful for the visit and for the joy that comes
from dawn dancing.