camping with
the dog
i sit out
eating breakfast
in the early
morning light
a faint whispering
of elements
crosses the field
a gentle touch
at the back of
my neck
before i notice
the slightest
      softest
of drizzles;
a dampened dappling
of pages
the slightest rippling
on the surface
of my morning tea
looking up
the wisps
of cloud
overhead
remain bright
and airy
but a dark horizon
promises brevity
to this

perhaps
that charcoal smudge
of nimbostratus
passed by
during the night
they didn't forecast
any rain
until tomorrow
after all
i am content
ignoring
   the warning signs
enjoying
the dog's snore
the flutter of tent
the dance
of grass
of insect
and of bird
and continuing
without change
while the dog
sleeps
at my side