after rain
vapor rises
from the rooftops
in a slow burn
oak trees smoulder
wisps like cigarette smoke
coiling along the bark
last night's rain
wrenched limbs from their sockets
sagged branches with the weight
of the water
a whole eucalptus downed
the story of its sudden death
exposed along the roots
its superstition
the way the rain-soaked skin of things
shivers and exhales
with the first warm touch of the sun
not vapor
but the smoke of burnt offerings
rising into the air
© Jeanne Wagner, 1996