This short time—these days,
these years, this life drawn
of earth and flesh, her breath
upon my face. The sun is late
to work, punches-out early
on the ridges. Each oak tree
takes a turn within
reflecting on lemon moons
rising without a rain.
We are hooked, we are trained
to follow every movement
of her hand, our eyes hang
on each stray strand,
each new clue
as to her mood.
This short time for lovers
of shadows on the edge
of pagan space rolls dry leaves
that sound like rain
in the dark of our delirium,
our empty wanting waiting.
This short time for family—
for all the hawks and birds,
for the all the animals,
wild and semi-domestic
that make a living together
in this dry place.
drycrikjournal 
PRELUDE TO A DROUGHT
Winter breaks this afternoon
with rain predicted by this evening.
Blowing over top the Cascades,
first true soaking of the season.
Never seen this land so wanting.
Now it fast will be replenished.
Winter breaks this afternoon
with half a season’s work to finish.
Cutting cordwood for my heating.
Cutting compost for the garden..
Dry work coming to completion
in a race with the moving storm.
Winter breaks this afternoon,
the maul is lost just when I need it.
In the garden, broken handle.
Left it there while building fences.
Lost the changing of the season
trying hard to keep the harvest.
Winter breaks this afternoon
and I’ve been favored with a warning
from my Mother in the North State
where the front has started pouring.
Here the sky has clouded over,
threatening and getting darker.
Winter breaks this afternoon
then Christmas Eve arrive in hours.
Tonight I’ll remain alone here
warmed by wood I’ve worked so hard for.
Contemplating words of scripture.
Warming deep a wanting spirit.
Winter broke this afternoon.
A misty haze has settled lightly.
Not the downpour once expected,
not enough to feed the landscape,
not at all a common Winter.
Just the prelude to a drought.
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Lot to like in this one, Jim. Thank you. Have a Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!!
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