Weather Is Good

Season turns into a party gone wild
the steelhead rush into by the hundreds, 
bullying as they spawn. 

They leap for the gravel redds, 
smack the surface so hard 
they wake us at night, 

spelling out their lives in new letters. 

It’s loud as a full moon inside me. 
When I look at the codes, it 
seems they say, You want it, take it. 

Even the dark outside the trailer’s wreck 
pulls the crocus up with its heat, 
bright pennants that pass for things that last.