Dowsing For Water

Rainstorms in the desert- I've seen two. One with lightning striking the tall cactus trees; the other with fog wrapping its thick arms around the prickly contours of the land. The sand turns a reddish brown as it washes along the desert floor. Cactuses gleam green and drip with the promise of life. The air is filled with a fragrance of earth and dust and all that we came from. Somewhere a pocket mouse lifts its mouth to the sky for a long deserving drink, and I try to appreciate whatever invisible dowsing rod it is that's led me twice to water in the deep, dry deserts of Arizona.