San Antonio is familiar to dry periods. The grass turns yellow, and then it turns white, and then it turns to dust, as the yard turns to dirt, and pale blue skies don’t mean sunshine.

Ground cover vegetation finds its way of life around cracks of sidewalks and masonry, harboring to shrubs and trees if possible.

But then it rains, and the season subtly changes, and the rain lilies appear, reaching for the stars, or, at the least, blooming for the moon.

The flowers turn to pods, and the seeds we flick into the ground, storing away hope during the next dry periods. Because if Zephyrlily can wait patiently, then so can I. I try to live by day these days, but sometimes, we gotta thrive in the lesser light.