First Rain, October 1999

Ravens rant as crows gather in copper skies Heron necks crane, ducks bopping like bobbers There is ceremony in the air Days shrinking to a smaller shell pebbles on the beach Still… Changing light only shapes the immediate vision time lies hidden between our toes our ancestors at our feet stories and deep voices with every ocean wave that jumps to shore Paintbrush spreading orange dressing the landscape the smooth autumn bare hills the golden dreams of what was once spring Now rasping autumn Full moon mouthing earth’s nipples century-old trees with multiple knees making love to the souls of the sun bare branches mark evening’s borders Connecting the dots; breathing in crayons… The first fall rain smells like produce the clouds gave it away a day or so ago soft fuzzy blankets - strange patterns and textures, from puffs to smears Sky is a mirror - emotions paint and peel away the layers of drama that dictate our inner peace the broad shoulders of genius our narrow ideas about ourselves, our country, our species, our universe. To be free of all labels! Deep soaking rain, water drenching the roots of dogma, claws of cats, the throat of hummingbird the falling tears the recycling of our ever present water, flows that feed fortune in each drop that magically falls to sweet earth dry autumn earth sinking teeth into the baring forest of winter… Peter Asmus