December 28, 2013
Shedding a few leaves early, the sycamores
have begun to turn, quit taking water,
teasing me with peeks of more alabaster flesh
at a distance—first moves before the sway
of winter’s naked dance along the creek—
sandy cobbles like rafts of human skulls now.
On my morning circle of first-calf mothers,
I check the spots where water rises first
behind the granite dikes beneath damp sand
and short-cropped green as if I might
hurry time, escape into the future cool and wet
and wait like a rabbit for tortoise to catch up.
drycrikjournal 
That’s really beautiful john. Your choices are perfect!
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Thanks, Tina. I’m going to try to keep track photographically this fall and winter of the sycamores as they change. Consensus is that they have turned and begun shedding leaves a little earlier this year, but it takes a hard rain to leave the limbs completely bare. As you can see by the date of the photo, they held on until after Christmas.
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