Day, Dark As Night
for skies are black as night,
with sheets of tattered rain
blurring views of gardens
oversaturated with ennui.
Reflected in the mirror-sky
greyness fills in with nimbostrati.
a cup of tea to wet the whistle
drowns the spirit, pushes any thoughts
of sunlight out to sea.
Better to close the blinds than
dwell upon another hour of this downpour.
The ever-increasing blackness of sky-clouds
recede to purest raindrops, now full of hope.
Perhaps the sun will reveal itself tomorrow.
Decisions, Decisions
with blankets, buckets, and a beach umbrella,
covered with pansies and butterflies (it was
your mother’s, not mine). So we sit on the porch
waiting it out, listening to the power of water,
tap tap tapping on the metal roof, gushing through
the eaves and out the downspout, flooding
the paths and lawn. Within minutes, the road gutter
is filled to the top of the curb. Suddenly it’s sunny again,
and we’re off, forgetting the sandwiches, cheese, and
pitted cherries on the kitchen counter.
Sober Thought
There is no path within the forward passage of our time where wallowing presents a pretty picture. In the back garden, I sit alone with thoughts of hummingbird and finch. Regret utters sadness, and I will cry after reading poetry tossed out to share. I am not mad with the world as it teeters on the wall, its cracks like webs extending. The notebook and pencil by my side, I wait for chickadees to bathe and call all others in to lunchtime rituals. They clear my thoughts and bring my worries to the paper, where they do less harm. In spaces such as these where sunlight casts a shadow on the sundial, I remember words composed by those who minister to souls in crisis, and tears drip down upon my folded hands. Across the lane, the voices of the neighbour’s children interrupt the downward spiral of my discontentment with people’s lack of intellect. And then the sun breaks through the clouds to cast its light upon me and I find my fears are now replaced with glistening cobwebs and seed pods floating in the breeze.
treading the path to
daylight, past standing stones that
cast shadows over
eclipsing moons, stars ask for
the answer: are we alone?
