Forecast Poem by Leo Briones

Today,
I will be seen only
as the shadow
of the mountainside
or the forest dirt
below a deer’s hooves.

For are the blossoms
of the cherry tree
greater than its bark
or its bough more
durable than its roots?

Time unfolds
like a distant storm
of thunder and flashes
in the sky.
Even though
we smell the musky rain

we can never be sure
when it will steep our
cracked soil to bring
the prosperity
of burgeoning Spring.