Tidework

Prompt: Desert meets the ocean in beautiful, saturated colors.

Baja waits for rain

gasping for breath,

Cisterns echo,

then a single cloud arrives,

an ancestor keeping time.

On playa I learned storms can be scripture,

dust closed the sky, our shade-cathedral collapsed, mud turned every step into prayer, to rebuild again.

The yoga room filled, a sudden inland sea. I knelt with cloths, spoke to the water. Intelligence, a messenger.

This pattern is now embodied, feast, famine, flood. Rhythm as old as time, A lesson in patience and release.

Grandma’s steps live in me, gesture before language, a dance no algorithm can name.

I stay with the element, pour a glass at dawn, listen for the hush between waves. The tide keeps its own ledger, It never forgets the way home.