The beginning of September, and autumn
Has come quickly. This morning, darkness
Lingers in rooms, comforting and sleepy,
And indigo clouds move briskly
Against the not-quite-sunrise sky.
—
A tropical storm has landed in Florida,
And we sip coffee while telling stories
Of typhoons in the Philippines. Meanwhile,
Here, in this temperate rainforest,
It barely descends as more than a drizzle,
The ground in a constant state
Of mist and morning dew.
—
It rains hard for a few minutes -
The fast and heavy kind, as if in Iowa, the kind
That floods the rivers and soaks the cornfields.
Child in my arms, we open the door to watch,
To listen, the earth inside of our bodies
Thirsting for more.
—
Having lived in the Midwest for so long,
The man I love reminds me of our fortune -
That here, in this temperate rainforest,
Life flourishes in the wintertime:
Verdant moss drapes the trees,
Moisture exposes the scents of soil,
Evergreens loom tall and protecting.
—
And we may see the signs of life,
Should we only choose to open our eyes.
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