The crows are back
to claim their roost
on the service pole above
pump and water trough.
The quail are scarce
since the Sharp-Shinned hawk
has come to spend
winter above the fog.
The Sycamores have quit
drinking from the dry creek bed,
quit pumping moisture
to their yellowing leaves.
Even the old bucks think
their necks are swelling
after the first rain smelling
primeval, basic and good.
drycrikjournal 
This is so nice
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