Awake Too Early …

Awake too early on this
new nickel Summer,
remembering Spring
who last evening
thrashed out her
dying downpour, breathing
one final sigh into a
blooming wild rose sundown,

As Amazon Creek,
small river child
ditched into straight and narrow
submission for subdivisions,
broke free
his fifty-green
alder willow cottonwood fringe
rising on swirling vapor, now
becoming one color in my nose
summoning murmuring
riffles with slow pools
hiding small trout,

While the rising waxing
three quarter Moon,
round white head of my
newborn old soul grandchild,
pushed outward against a
pure lens of
impossible blue.