before I fell down I sat down
in The Valley of a Thousand Falls

lightning struck my mountain
came tumbling through the canyon

in tractor tires
thunder-capping to the river

to the trail head, pricking the ears
of Hargreave's horses packing

hampers up the mountain so
dim-lily, white-iced, cold-calves

(bobbin in Lake Berg
like so many lotto balls)

might celebrate fall with a
warm apple pie pedicure