morning sun peeked before clouds swallowed leaving a gray blanket sky if you can count raindrops can you call that rain? if there’s the smattering of a gloomy feeling is that yet a feeling? you might see me walking this morning, head down saying HI with clouds in my voice, looking inside to see if it’s going to rain

a winter’s flight south Canadiens and their geese honk with an accent

wind acts like water flows through trees pushes leaves spirals in eddies spills down mountains cuts channels around buildings, and sometimes rages like a river sweeping everything away a muscular one last year hurled plastic chairs and bags, flung papers, threw sand, palm fronds, scattered cups, hats, branches as if an invisible river had flooded the valley, debris everywhere, exactly what a feisty rainstorm would leave in its wake except for a brilliant desert sun an