As the smiles in the cloud brighten,
a cloudburst of joy
sends gentle kisses on our rooftops,
pouring down clouded tears—
bottled-up emotions
to quench the thirsts of
humans, plants, animals... and phantoms.
The trees—
with feet rooted deep in earth—
stood humble as a worm.
The birds~
wings shyly folded to drain the rain—
could not dry-clean the leak in their nests.
Each drop of the rain
carried the smell of the earth,
as runoffs calmed the fury of a beast
threatening to devour the landscape—
along with the thunder.
Then twilight knocks—
the stream of tears halts mid-flow,
the music stops, as rain pulls up the curb;
dry rain clutches the biting wind...
to remind us: it's winter not summer.
Fog, like a shroud, hangs over the valley,
muting the morning's voice, soaking the ground.
Droplets cannonball, trying to rally,
base jump the downspouts, raise echoing sounds.
Scarce is heard but a chorus of crickets.
Runoffs form rivulets, quiet joined mirth.
Does skip breakfast, stay tucked in the thickets,
waiting for sunshine, enjoying warm earth.
Silent, it slips like ghosts through the forest,
leaving no trace but a sheen on the bark.
Seemingly endless, in the aorist,
thwarting dawn's progress, prolonging the dark.
Alone, a sorrowed lover seeking trysts,
a sodden, tear-soaked spirit in the mists…
—————
For the 2020 Poetry Marathon Mile 14 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Written on 9/10/2022
No path is limited, to one mold
fits all journeys – no footsteps a
lineal trail followed or forged~our individual
universes a swirl of infinite mazes, each one
the Father and Mother of
its own invention...we evolve into
our own accidental and willed offspring....
there are no outlets...
even the runoffs, ever further
in....
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