I saw her
coming on.
Clouds rolling,
grey and gray.
–
I’d prepared,
wheelbarrowing,
pitchforking,
cover crop seeding,
compost spreading,
to plant her
blueberry bushes.
–
She’s something
like the rain.
Never hesitating
to fall.
Always letting
go, into
rolling thunder,
white light.
–
If you stand
in her
she’ll drench you.
No matter
your clothes.
If you’re there
with her
she’ll hold you
up
like water
softened ground.
If you follow her
she’ll let you
watch her
grow.
“You should publish this” 