Dog Walking at Dawn - Nov. 7, 2024

something catches my eye

a field dipped in gold

a radiant Shangri-La

of gilded grasses bending

in a soft breeze

the rising sun paints boldly

in the early morning

for a sleepy-eyed

imagination

I drive by later and see it’s

a stretch of drought-dead

weeds and bushes next to

a channel once used by water

it must have been dawn's holy air

and an obvious desire

for a heavenly visit

to a dying world