After the dry summer,
before the frigid winds of winter.
Before the mountaintop snows,
host skis and snowboards.
Before the spring sunshine transforms meter and yard of white fluff,
to icy, exuberant, baptismal waters.
In that moment after and before,
I find my rest beside the gentle flow,
as it gurgles and bubbles around exposed rock and creek bed.
In that moment,
the divine voice softly whispers,
“I am still creating!”