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.