During the dawn ritual this morning, before the rain,
the mountain lion retreated to the creekside woods.
The sky, heavy and threatening in the west,
high and ribbed in the east,
reptilian altostratus scales
and a continuous spectrum of blue.
A faint pink glow
whipped around in surprise:
high clouds catching fire
before the arrival of the sun,
making the land seem
so much the darker, and towering
over the dark west:
a narrow arch of light
like an answer.
Oh! Where are my manners?
Please forgive me for being so bold. It's just
that beauty is my religion, and my altar
is your smile.