Night rains invite me off
with high-low drips of their sympatico
dance at dawn.
Crickets who’ve lost their legs
tempt with breezily fingered promises
Found, somewhere I’ve never been.
Willow bats her eyelashes at me, and
I take up
Her hair to straddle clouds,
where we watch Zeus in action while scratching
the white wolf
Beneath her weighted chin,
and whisper that she’ll get her chance to roam,
Aftershocks from the hurricane — the rain, the rain, the rain…collects in soggy Sunday musings in the mountains of North Carolina.