I saw the saguaros waiting for that rain that won't come
A thousand hooded monks kneeling in their opprobrium
Knees in agony on the desert's hard stone
I heard inside, underneath, their hopeless chanted moan
"Why has He planted us here? What has He done?"
And then mysteriously, afar off, thunder-drums
Heat-lightening in the mountains
All night all night I couldn't sleep
Like Anthony, like John, my soul cried out
Desolate
Deep to deep
It was morning in an Eden carved of red stone
When I went walking in the saguaro's home
A little waterfall runs there and all around its brink
The jeweled dragonflies
Scintillate
I think
He hath two kinds of acolytes:
The thirsty ones
The ones that drink