A drying, warming trend forecast
highs to mid-seventies

possibly stormy, rain, snow, lightning
wind moving in:

“We were up here last August, couldn’t
see ten feet” — crows cawing way off somewhere.


Constant companions smile the hummingbird motion.
Still, my right front tire’s slowly going flat
miles from anywhere,

though Skip’s suggestion
to use Bic lighters instead of matches
gets the campfire ablaze with ease.


Crazy brain, inconstant heart, where are you?
Crickets ask through the night.

Big Jewels through mottled sky:
Game Birds strut along the Great White Broadway.

In alpine terrain spring, summer, autumn
all bloom at once, as soon as snow begins melting.

To continue, click here.
Copyright 2015
Poem originally appeared in Castalian Spring


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