Saturday, May 4, 2013

Poesy: One-of-Mine Edition

Rainy day as Chinese watercolor;
the trees are wild with wind.
A grey room, comfortable
with misty windows, condensation
and the audio of the bus line
which squeaks and squeals
bone-chilled passengers forward
whom could not stay indoors.
The houseplants are caught
with leaves against a chilly window,
variegated greens and yellows
silently shivering in the unusual May gloom.
A Saturday, bone-bleached empty,
hushed respite from the Spring.
An off-day to hide and listen to the hum
of the refrigerator, eat olives and fruit;
Only the weather knows I'm here
pregnant with the rain outside my window.
Nothing - 
and then a car rips past,
black asphalt and dripping wet,
a train coming in with far-off clacks.
My a.m. song of gooseflesh
and dark brown branches,
trembling leaves.

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