The heater shuts off
and the quiet dark world
wraps around me.
Finally after a frenzied day
and an evening nap
I accomplish something
concrete for my colleagues.
Time now
for a late-night snack
Jerusalem artichokes
pinenuts
a dried persimmon
and the good book
waiting for me
beside my bed.
Shade
on a bench downtown
the hummingbird pokes
orange tecoma blossoms
beside me
rubs his beak against the bark
the town quiet
the air clean
the mountains close
and well loved
I savor this respite
after the earlier frenzy
and ready myself for
my Amtrak bus.
I cross the busy street
feel frenzy in my body
from people in the store
discouraged
I cry on the sidewalk
two ravens come
play circles
in the air
connect me
again.
Walking home
one lone frog calls
from the creek
again and again
in the almost dark
I greet him inside me
as I leave him behind
wishing him
plenty of water
and good bugs
always.
Saturday evening
a house across the creekbed
blasts music
but the frogs make it okay
make it tolerable
so many voices
loud
plaintive
happy
contradictory
ceaseless call and response
so many
I remember years ago
after the rain
tiny frogs
everywhere
on the path
so many
you had to watch
every time
where you put your foot.
I walk on the creek path
after the rain
one small, dear channel of water
runs in the center of the bed
when I turn to go home
it walks with me in my direction
silent companion
in the desert dusk.
In the desert
everything is poised
always
ready to reach
toward life
so the rain speaks
to the dry desert
like nowhere else
on earth.
No Holds Barred 