Packing For Arizona

If you're a city-slicker,
As am I,
Might as well,
If you're thinking straight,
Leave your good shoes at home.
Flip-flops are the only footwear you need.

While you're at it,
Skip the pants,
Unless,
And I don't mean to judge,
You're one of those,
Um,
Pants with flip-flops kind of guys,
Which I am not,
But it works for some folks.

You won't need a sweatshirt,
Or a jacket,
So do yourself a favor,
Skip it.

Shorts,
T-shirts,
And one,
Maybe one,
Button-up woven,
In case you're doing something fancy,
Though a sweet polo will do just fine.
And you'll need a swimsuit,
Of course.

These are the clothes you require,
Should you,
Like me,
Find yourself going to Phoenix,
After February,
But before December.

4-17-19

Arizona Haikus

2-2-19
Desolate desert,
crawling with unseen critters.
Arizona home.

Storms, sudden and fast,
sweet Sonoran summer gift,
strange place for a toad.

Sky ablaze, molten,
immortal cliffs bear witness,
the sun paints the sky.

Stoic saguaro,
sentinel of the desert;
cactus wren comes home.

2-4-19
Imperceptible,
magic from the desert floor,
wildflowers bloom.

Tarantula hawk,
black and orange death from above,
hunting for a host.

Muddy red ribbon,
no longer flows to the sea,
river overdrawn.

2-5-19
Forty-three degrees,
Packers Jersey and flip-flops,
Snowbirds have arrived.

Salt River canyon,
mother to fertile valley,
trickle for the sprawl.

2-17-19
Thunderheds gather,
they'll break in a rush out east,
swift and violent.

Miraculous storms,
Pharoah would quiver to see,
haboobs closing in.

Here it comes again,
wall of dust devours us,
followed by torrents.