After the rain: the gnawing of crickets,
sun-scorched leaves.

A bird harrowing far away inside
the drier hemisphere of your mind.

Earth wet with the after rain
dankness of blessing

Snails sliming slowly through the thick
forest of this cerebral haven;

their silvery trail said to hold healing within.

You watch it grow like shrub
in the fertile ground of your heart-

days well spent, shivering in the dew
and drop of Golden Hill's schizophrenia-

the glitter of this bipolarity
lighting dark days.