Easter morning, the first day of the new week. A rooster crows, his cock’s comb quivering like a scarlet ocotillo blossom in the breeze. The sun bursts into the sky like a bright yellow Mexican poppy in the Sonoran Desert.

Mary Magdalene, Jesus’ dear friend, goes to the tomb with her spices to anoint his body again and finds the stone rolled away from the entrance. “It certainly was very large,” the Gospel of Mark tells us, which always makes me laugh.

And the tomb is empty! Mary can’t find the body of her beloved anywhere and runs in distress to find the disciples, who don’t believe her.

Peter and John run to the tomb and find only the linen grave cloths that wrapped round the body of Jesus. The angel sitting there asks, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here. He is risen, as he said.”

Then all the saguaros in the Sonoran Desert throw up their arms, shouting “Alleluia! He is risen from the dead!” Why else do so many of them reach for the sky?