Poesy: One-of-Mine Edition

Muse

 

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;

disappear.

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.

 

-RPJ