Moved by the rain
As if I were a contained rain
I must alchemize this water
Into words, what are some
Good smell words, I wonder

You are
The universe
Writing a poem to
Itself, about itself (it’s for
Itself)

Moved by the fall
As if they were each
Little autumns, they must
Tell and tell, with words – with poems
All the writers (before their winters)

You are
The thunderstorm
Writing a poem now
About the rain – what else would you
Write of?

Moved by the slightest stupid
Breeze, the poets go zooming
From the beehive to write
Sonnets on the sweetness of honey
Each bee. Each sonnet.

You are
The sixth person
In Dunn county to write
About the recent tornado
The sixth

Moved by the weatherwoman
I go digging for rainy
Tankas wherever it’s been raining
Tiny haiku blooming wherever
There’s been weather