Poem from "Mud Season at the Castle" (by me when I was E. L. Dugger)

Initiation

Across the heat of June hayfields
the clouds rolled up all black and silver
flashing forth ancient tongues
and came the rain:
Gray slaps and sluices sweeping down hillsides
stealing vistas
pounding the earth into puddle holes
and whipping the rutted road.
It was the longest day of summer,
yet the green ridges shivered purple
and the birds hid.
Late afternoon the wind arose
tore off the sky's low sagging veil
and spread blue innocence
from hill to gleaming hill.
To the mountaintop I scrambled
drawing the charged and trembling air
into my secret places.
And the places where my wings might grow
rustled feathery soft inside me.