After so much rain,
historic, biblical, stupid
amounts of rain,
we are drying out.

And, as the first month of the year
can sometimes do here,
hints of spring tease us with
unseasonably warm days,
which we happily accept,
after so much cold and wet.

But already we hear the predictions
about what is coming, and,
never knowing how much, how long,
how devastating, we stockpile
the dry like cord wood.

We rush out under the sun,
collecting it in buckets.
We gather warmth into
the solar panels of our cells.
We unbundle and walk in the world
for the moment, carefree,
ignoring the possibility
of what might be.