To preface: rain finally came to Colorado…
Featherlight and arrow tight
a clear cascade to scour light,
it downs the earth through flashes bright
and ends in walls to steal the sight.
A crackle, night, beckoned at the howl
while men descend into the bowl
and the old bark, it bends to growl,
swirled in blacktop mirror, like sinking fowl.
Yet there ride the drifting fires,
a four-wheeled beast to scatter its own pyres
drifting to the wake the Blue Wolf sires–
a thunder on the mountain, drifting ever higher.