"I've been here 40 years,
never had to water the garden in January.
Things are gonna get really weird."
have the rain maidens all gone?
here i was thinking they preferred the damp
warmth of these winter valleys,
but some huge oaf of a pressure system
out on the Pacific
has sent them scurrying east
their hearts have tasted the sweet of cold
and snow, and now who knows
when the rivers will be high enough
for the salmon to lay their crimson roe
everyone is confused, not used
to all this low sunlight in January
and the cold the open sky affords;
i concluded the scrub jay
was screaming solely because he could see his breath
while doings so, having never seen this before;
the cherries and magnolias are opening their blossoms
but there is hardly anyone to kiss them;
personally i think the varied thrushes
are enjoying the drought,
they give breathy whistles all day
and seem to knock the laurel nuts
into the pond with a fervency,
some sort of animagical ritual
to stave off the clouds?
me? i'm just dreaming often
of puddles full of maple leaves
and the remembrance of being drenched
underneath the redwood tree all night
thinking how well a wet-night in the duff
can cure a heart that breaks itself