A foggy morning gave way to
Balmy temperatures under blue, clear skies, and
While I am glad of easy weather in itself, I
Worry for what it promises of the
Coming months, and I
Wonder if the Hill Country will follow the Outback when
Next Aestas dances here, or
If she will flee instead before
The wrath of an older goddess returned to
Find her home infested by place and wriggling parasites
Will the virgin's flow continue,
Promising life to come,
Or will its source and ours be shut against
The ire of some sun god
My tongue cannot name?
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