Edges, Silvery Gray-Green

Anchovies are on 
the rain today, these
tiny fish fondling the
edges of the sky, crying
into their beers, the 
sudsy petrichor, another
obsession unlocked when
things get wet. The desert
offers great oceans of glad
to the autumn tide pools,
the sagebrush lobster 
chases a bobcat from the
beginning of the cul de 
sac to the end of the house
fly tract, a land that was 
once unowned and now
sits, tenuous, waiting to 
be scour skewer gored
by the cross beams of 
a fearful mammal's
place to grouse.