wednesday morning after night rain,out in the dirt road – spade in handtrying to redirect the run-offto rain channels and contour pondsthat will fill overflow, soak to the rootsbefore, steep hill forest,it will make its way to the small river, deep valley,that rushes and roarspulling dead wood and tangle in its flow,to join the wide…
we knew it would rain waking almost morningopening the doorstepping out half darkhoping for the last of night coolon my skin, but insteadthe world breathed warmalive with misttoo close for stars we knew it would rainwhen day came and mistpulled thin across the skyuntil the sun singedthe unravelling edgesof the world and wewaded through the…
with mud soaked leaf hands we greet the sodden sky gulping mouthfuls of drizzle cloud from the road down the driveway water snakes and froths its way to the contour ponds brimming now with new rain and frogsong.
there always was enough time. stretched, held like a breath between drops of rain plummeting from a vanishing point, one by one. time enough to close our eyes, open our mouths to that infinite sky wait for the inevitable fall giddy with the taste rain.
and though morning came hot and full and ravens skimmed the blue nothing wings circling the tipping moon pale in the early sky – it was the evening that breathed us, night skin singing sweet with rain.
it is not rain alone that fills the well. beneath our feet sweet water pools in the darkness of our unknowing, waiting for us to name our thirst.
etymology in the beginning was the word and the word was rain and it fell to the thirst of the earth and we lived – feather, fur and leaf. lived again to tend the tree that grows from the earth, is the earth, bathed in in light.
if the sun had not risen if the rain had not fallen if loerie had not sat perfect green on the archway waiting for us to pay attention. if it had not rained more misting the ocean on the way down the hill if the air had not pulsed warm rich with rain and ocean…
went out mid shower in the almost dark to shape the flow of water harvested road-side along channels to fill a series of ponds. it had been raining solidly all day. i had not intended to be out long, just enough to check water levels and hear the sounds of night, full with running water…
women have long lost their skins to love – whether it be fox or selkie or leopard or bear that let them live wild in bramble dreams and kelp forests of shadowed light as the moon rose deep in their animal bodies. and some mornings we wake skinless in a soft rain world thrumming fascial,…