enough rain to fill this pot

came storming into Denver today, taking us too far from sun

(we’re blue-sky people whose buds bloom bright

with early-evening rays you’ve tried to take from us)

in between storms, i capture this shot:

the muddy pot, the glistening leaves, the desire to be dry,

to feel anything but tears on my cheeks.

but as the sun sets, the rain returns, its early-May news as cold as April showers,

and i can’t bring myself to tilt the pot, to shake the quaking aspen,

to be anywhere but here in this twilit moment, drying these drops.