Out of the Gulf to rest upon the spine
of the Sierras, run aground on the Kaweahs,
animal shapes spill overboard
after marking months of blazing days
since April showers, we watch clouds
and wonder if it rained on Arizona friends,
or if it’s pouring now on the Kings
or in the Roaring River Canyon, Rowell
Meadow darkened beneath them.
Despite hot monsoon gusts that lift
and twist the dust across the pasture,
pregnant cows sequestered to the shade,
we dare to breathe relief as the sun slides
south—split redwood and Manzanita
waiting ready near the woodstove.