The sea-colored sky makes the sky-colored sea:
Storm moves in, all sliding clouds and strange
Changes in the pressure of the air. Ahead of it,
The gulls run, wheel and disappear; the sand
Prepares to receive. Inland, sagebrush and
Buckwheat await—they will bloom overnight;
The thin, seeming-dead twig will shoot out
Both leaf and blossom in response. Now,
Everything—there, here—is paused, hushed,
Inward-turning: A kind of unity; for when
It comes, all shapes will shift and make,
Build and breed, after the first rain of Spring.
Always, after the first rain of Spring, all
Things become—-again-—the thing New.