89/L26 – Cedar

Cedar

Christ the man tastes
cedar on the wind. Rain
storms its way down valley
swamping the low-lands.
The crops he tilled last week
may drown or survive.
Far west an eagle turns
a slow swath, ignoring
the coming storm. Lord
of the air claims his own.
Lord of the air rides out
what comes to shake him.
He leans to on the porch,
waiting. The first drops fall,
the smell of cedar rises.

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *