The Wind Beneath Our Wings

‘Twas spring again in ole’ St. Johns,
and all through the Arizona town,
the Wind made its annual presence known,
nearly knocking small children down.

Cries of “Auntie Em!” were heard,
reminiscent of a Kansas-famed storm.
Along the airport’s chain-link fence,
a tumbleweed mural took form.

Would there be snow or sunshine a’ plenty?
For there seemed no in-between.
But one thing was for certain-
There would be a flying trampoline.

Lilac bushes were prepared to bloom,
and apricot trees were poppin’,
heedless of the one last freeze
that their fruition would be stoppin’.

That fly ball hit out to left field?
Well, Mother Nature’s home run it became.
Not even a weather-service dust-storm warning
is enough cause to cancel the game.

The mistral wall the tracksters hit
sprinting around that last bend,
dirt in their hair and teeth and eyes,
digging in, they always reach the end.

Rabbits, spiders, lizards, runners-
all emerge from long winter’s hibernation.
One day near 80, the next barely 50,
they are thrown into consternation.

Yet, not stopped by a breeze ever mighty,
nor halted by a lack of moisture,
San-Juan-ites relentlessly march onward
with a faith and a fortitude pure.

At the park will be Easter picnics,
Squash, grass, and marigolds planted still,
Prayers for rain uttered from each pulpit,
With the hope that every reservoir will fill.

The trees will turn green, this we know,

strong roots forged from years of fighting gales,
not unlike the formidable people here,

whose love of God, family, and friends never fails.

~By Suzanne Hancock