One of these days
we’ll watch movies, play monopoly,
I’ll be the terrier, you the cavalry,
we’ll sing and dance under clouds of rain,
not so similar songs, but the tune’ll be the same,
there’ll be reading of writing of long ago,
maybe quoting of passages we’ll always know:
we’ll bear the hearts we hide from public eye
to another that understands the why
there’s been cowering in corners too long–afraid,
afraid of what our Creator has blessed and made,
you’ll arrive on a north wind, I on a south,
will meet together and forget life without,
for I sense a change in the air,
but no vane heralds quite where.
or who or where it will take us to
Another helping of rain
Can’t help hoping for another helping of rain
narrated by thunder and barn’s bang
as hues transform twilight and night slowly covering
a saturated sun setting behind dark clouds hovering,
swinging the spectrum on a pendulum that humidies hang
tragically, intimately close to my heart’s pain.
Afternoon Musing
Cicadas laugh
while God moves furniture upstairs–
the rain cometh
and the grass remains un-mowed.
Light of noon woke this boxer-clad vagrant,
no breakfast–lunch at three after
watching Flynt advocate free speech;
sickened by market images,
will I be another stylist?
hiding cooks and dishwashers in kitchens,
waitresses in front, fronting for the bottom line
of living: “I just work here”–
jaded by day to day cataclysms.
Yeah, and I just survive here on this rock.