It rained about the middle of the day,
or so I thought. My dull and temperate
diet sustains me, although now I may
lapse into a binge sometimes. The date
the milk expired is worn off, the shine
of the refrigerator light is dim.
I think about the water, its decline
when clouds forget to rain, the way it trims
the moisture from the air. A light fades
outside the kitchen window and I owe
the world another song about the shade
the river oak gives. It takes rain to grow
the tree into the tower that you see
rising up from the earth to prophesy.
No comments:
Post a Comment