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