The black storm that had gathered
On the mountaintop relented
And the dawn broke with green and orange plumes
I'm not much for superstition
But it felt like finally
Some better times were arriving
So I took my cup of coffee
And walked east through the tall grasses
Toward that strange morning light.
I found a ledge in the hillside to sit under
And wait out the afternoon's rain
There was scrap of newsprint in the dirt there
So I read the same three sentences over and over
I listened to a barn owl inquiring
And I watched another sun setting.
I still think of you often in these evening times.