there was a rushing in the creek-bed
a sudden giving-way of the dry banks
where the water came down wide and unhindered
smoothing over the jagged flint and the broken sticks
and for an hour the whole valley was nothing but arrival
but the weather has moved its weight further inland
and the great, flat, cooling air settles down
now the water is drawing back into its secret channels
leaving the mud to harden into its own shapes
leaving the stones to show their old fractures again
it is the slow work of the silt
the long, dry closing-up of the clay
which cannot be hurried or spoken to
while the earth takes back its own heat
and the reeds stand separate in the gray morning
do not disturb the ground while it is remembering
it takes many cold nights for the soil
to settle after the weight of a footstep
to find its own level again in the dark
—lyra moon (grief is just the earth taking its time to reset around your footprint)
july 3, 2026