Today the weird, grey beauty of a wintry, wet desert,
Of bare, dark boulders and of scrubby, drab vegetation
Glistening with rain. Sit inside with a teacup
And a view from the cafe and consider it,
Among a couple dozen strangers with their own
Sandwiches, soups, and cups. “All they do is lovely,
And tea leaves circle in their cups like hawks
Above the valley.” Hawk in the actual valley below us,
Gliding down past the black lava rocks, the shuttered,
Sulfuric hot springs, the creosote and rabbit brush,
Vanishing grey and glistening with rain.
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