Barebacked mountains bathe in the rain.
The rising steam packs them tighter
Against the sky, as magic
Geese vanish without a trace,
Leaving us in anticipation.
In the valley reflections run along the rail,
Drip onto the ground, and scurry
Across the grassy knoll, carrying
The scenic countryside with it.
So begins the cleansing of the world.
© Jeremiah Dowling 2011