Sunday, June 2, 2013

The soft rain that finds the morning air

The soft rain that finds the morning air
perfect for its teaching, the thin mist
obscuring her sharp eyes and secret face,
the clouds confusing us with their meanings;

the ocean knowing different shores at once,
communicating in a variety of languages,
using a script that seems incomprehensible
but somehow holds a very elaborate meaning;

the circular cycle of the air masses
that whirl about us bringing definition
to the trees and flowers lining the canal.

But eternal Sun showers and endless seas
would not be vast enough to hope to contain
your essence, which remains inscrutable.

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