A little rain and two damps days,
the heifers have left for the ridges,
for the first grass,
before the cotyledons spread their hands
above your father’s ashes—it’s glorious
before the light of dawn.
Outside my den, a falcon watches
from the snag, surveying hillsides,
listening to far calf’s bawl. Our world
moves to another beginning
we cannot stop—it’s glorious
before the light of dawn.
drycrikjournal 