Before the rain, I couldn't imagine the rain.
It is that way with me. Yesterday
I filled with brilliant sunlight, with air faintly green,
reflecting the everything that
rises in spring.
Yesterday was dry and so
is dry. Around here, the Kings River runs clean as it can.
against the bluffs, a canoe snakes,
loops, slides sweet up to
Clifty. In this weather,
I am a forecast atheist.
Torrents come as a surprise, boil the creek with
pulse the flannel hillside light with crows, riding the breeze
like oil on water. I
float in vitreous air,
contained by ignorance and
caws. Warnings are nothing
to me. A momentary drought,
clear again, how can I believe the glass will
Wendy Taylor Carlisle lives in Texas. She is the author of two books and two chapbooks. Read more about her at www.wendytaylorcarlisle.com.