Last night’s rain left a glistening
on the leaves of limbs at dawn,
beads upon the redwood silver
twinkling like a Christmas tree.
White icing shines upcanyon,
dark chocolate in the creek flow,
first light ignites the sycamores
and cottonwoods to flames,
aged sorrel geldings buck and slide
in mud like fresh colts finding legs.
Last night’s rain left me dreaming
beyond this canyon—all a fantasy.
drycrikjournal 