In the Time of Steelhead

There is a method to December,

Chilled cradle to summer’s child.


If I wait to count the rain

Just long enough.


In between,

the fair gauze of sky and storm

Holding us in a spell

While morning turns back



This world of rock and water

Green ghost of new worlds

And the long places between.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s