Dry Rushes by a Shrunken Stream

The hemispheric destruction
That’s ordinary September
Comes as relief to drought-stricken
Forest dreaming of wet winter,

Semi-sempiternal desert,
And creatures tired of heat and thirst.
The few streams shrink. Crews with chainsaws
Thin woods for next year’s fire season.

The leaves, already browned, yellow
Early, somewhat half-heartedly,
As if needing some assistance
With their certain termination.

But is it beautiful? It is
Gorgeous and halfway comforting,
Like so much of this existence.
Rush no end to savor ending.