In a couple of hours the rain,
as if giving what it had been
holding back—a summer's worth of water
to bust the drought at once,
making up for lost, dry
time—would shock the gold trees
bald, then leave them on the roadside
like mummy monks begging
a midday drink. But that would be
all then. Under the dimming sky,
that wasn't here yet. What was here—
charged with twilight—glowing
heads of street lamps showing
the yellow path free and clear.
Matt Stefon lives and writes north of Boston. He is the former religion editor for Encyclopedia Britannica and teaches comparative religion in Norwich University's online degree completion program. He has self-published three e-chapbooks of poetry and has his first print collection, Shaking the Wind, forthcoming.
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