July 2020

This year, when it rains, it really rains…

The rain’s own alchemy
turns holes to pools; paths to streams;
and air to water.



Rain and humidity…

The air’s like sphagnum,
vegetation softly drips.
Spiders set mist nets.



Calm morning…

Burnished bronze, the Bay,
offering no reflection.
Keeping its secrets.



Dawn chorus – of corvids…

Crow conversations,
their rough, guttural language.
Sweet sounds from the thrush.



Dark, still nights…

Velvet-textured dark
both fills and empties the night,
leaving only sound.