Today the creek's confluence
is turbulent, its long smooth muscles
flexing as white foam lofts a resounding voice urging it
toward the sea.
A dog trots with
a muddy stick in its mouth, each neuron barking a version of itself
on the run. Wet and gloomy, I wonder if the first people who
settled here brooded during
the dark days of winter, especially when it's the first day of
a difference a day makes," a small mouth beneath a big cowboy
"What do you mean?" his friend replies.
"It was sunny yesterday."
"It's still sunny inside my head," the other man