April exits stage left,

bidding adieu, waving her

Sonoran brush of trade winds

and soft apricot. They dance

down walls to touch natural oak,

warming, welcoming, watching

every moment of our lives.

Outside, hours before midnight,

cottonwood trees sway.

They whisper of mad

May days to come,

while we will find comfort

in what we can control,

who we greet with love,

even as we ponder what

western treasures to

embrace and behold

in the desert lodge

of our Arizona abode.