i
August cumulus, undersides jaundiced,
seething, now the sheet-metal roof
hammered like coal dumped down a chute,
the cabin a steel drum pounded by Thor,
the firs frosted in minutes, meadow
spotless, only high stubble
poking through.
                                  Throw the door open,
shorts and T-shirt, breath in puffs,
field already sloughing its cloak,
a river of crystals down to the creek
where sky pales, a blinding sun,
crunch under sandals – scoop and fling
these milky marbles, handfuls of winter,
a dream with aching palms.

ii
Watch an alder leaf let go,
yellow dory that won’t capsize,
then a gust that shreds the treetop,
citron scarf of leaves, threshes
the spruce, rains dry needles aglitter –
wind that carries the knowledge of fire,
its need to lick whatever it touches
down to cinder.
                                   Stow the lament –
years without rain, smoky months,
songbirds gone, the cough that lingers.
What we’ve unleashed has found us. How
to make amends – and harbor wonder . . .
First ice, then heat; ice leaves, and returns –
with us, without us. Praise hail. And ash.