The rain has come and there is a rush of water down Desert Willow Creek. The water is red, indicating the rain that fell on Red Bluff. I hear the mournful sound of doves and the SA-CA-JA-WEE-A of the redwing blackbird from the tall grasses on the other side of the creek where the water spreads out. The wind is cool in the early morning but will heat up as the day progresses.

Hear the wind sing through leaves of desert willow;
The spring fed creek answers in muted ripples.
The moon, dressed in flowing robes of gossamer,
Ragged lace in moving sequined ruffles,
Her silver light to filter and dance on the foliage.