Raining

Pink begonias on porches here 

Waiting late spring’s summering, as 

Recalcitrant weather seeks to find balance.

At the pond, reassurance of 

Bullfrogs sounding basso & profundo; 

I see small brown hoppy toads, but 

I am frustrated because I can’t mow,

So I ruminate on paths, perhaps, and patches

Where wilding things persist, noticing 

A new way of being in to and of this place 

This property, out in that far pasture

Hawthorne and pear. 

Long the twilight to the southwest 

I listen to old prompts

From landscape and memory, 

When light dimmed before my prairie sense said it should

When night comes on before

My prairies senses say

It may, and behold 

The most intense pure 

Blue, no brilliance but the shadow

Just before the night comes in 

In the leaving to the west.