Listening to sparse raindrops slowly

hit the glass.

Through the windshield

a mountain rises still touched by snow.

In the field,

no prairie dogs bark from rounded rim,

staying instead

firmly below ground.

Thunder sounds from above,

walls of the adobes drip widely,

roof edges like spilled paint cans.

One sparrow’s unafraid of the movements

and sings from a line

as lightning sparks to the west.