A bower for sleeping bees,
the ground begs softly
beneath the burning trees
to foster cotyledons
and change the canyon green.
No cars on the road,
silence weighs heavily,
not a bird or bull’s bawl
to claim the open space
that’s come alive.
The gray sky witness
floats in a cloud-fog
damp and undemanding
as the long pause of winter
moves into a new beginning.
drycrikjournal 