…and maybe, just maybe she
comes by a different route,
out of the south with moisture
early. I have felt her breath
in the shade of evening
on my face, harbingers
that teeter on imagination
long enough to become
themselves, develop within
the fading light. All this
imagining excites the flesh
and hair. As shadows stretch
between half-naked oaks
on these sepia hillsides—
we start to color dreams.
drycrikjournal 
Wonderful musings, John. Love the image too.
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🙂 Thanks, Sylvia. Even drought can be beautiful, but it begins to take on a fiery color into fall.
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Like a breath of anticipation.
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It has that, too, but perhaps with a little desperation behind the scenes, within the shadows. Thanks so much for your comment.
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this is wonderful!
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Thanks 🙂 But for wonderfully varied poetry, I highly recommend your blog.
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My favorite season, too subtle in California for my own taste, but still there to get us ready for winter. Lovely words.
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It’s certainly been ‘too subtle’ for the past two years, Evelyne, and in our desperation the slightest sign of getting ready for getting ready for winter becomes a big and beautiful thing. Nothing else to do but to enjoy it. 🙂
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Last night I had this incredible dream that I was jumping up and down yelling “It is raining, it is raining!” My dreams often are prophetic – let’s hope so on this one!!!!!
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I suspect every living thing in California is having the same dream, especially all those oak trees, jumping up and down in their sleep. It’s been a long pull since spring, everybody’s ready. 🙂 Thanks, Heather!
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Excellent combination of poem and image!
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Thank you, my dear. A special compliment coming from you. 🙂
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