Rain

It begins with
the dispensing of shadows
borders become
indistinct
contrast fails
the rumor of rain
by thunder is
soon confirmed
by smell
and even as the first
drops are still
on their way
anticipation becomes elation
as though some inner commodity
usually in short supply
is about to become
abundant

The Things We Do

Maybe we do the things we do
to maintain our sanity
the way steam must be vented
or filters must be cleaned
or bandages changed
or
maybe we do the things we do
to retain the level
of insanity
that we can successfully maintain
or
maybe we do the things we do
because we’re  crazy

First Thing On The List

I love my wife
I really do
and I know she loves me, too
and we're stuck with each other
forever
but in my musings
I imagine her running off
with - oh I don’t know
Johnny Depp maybe -
and the first thing I do
I mean
the very first thing I do
even before his
fancy little red convertible
is out of sight
is
I get rid of all these gottdam cats!

We Were Listening

We were listening.
Even down by the water
and on Sunday afternoon.
At dinner.
In the garden and that time
out by the road right
before it started to rain.
We were listening and
we heard so much
We heard the waves -
the gentle lake waves
splashing against the rocks and
the breeze in the midday trees
when all else was quiet
and the honey bees
hopping from bloom to bloom
and the symphony of silverware
glass and china and
the laughter and
the thank yous and the
crunch of the gravel  beneath the tires
as the cars pulled away
and then the sound of the rain
the many sounds of the rain
We were listening then
We’re still listening

One More Poem

Before I drag my weary butt off to bed
I feel compelled to write
one more pointless little poem
   with the hope of course
   that it will turn out to be
   something more than just
  one more pointless little poem
   perhaps a minor masterpiece
   of modern poetry
   that would nice
so I sit here at my keyboard
- it’s just as handy as a pen and pad -
and tap out one word after another
and hope they fall into place
in some way other than ordinary
okay
that’s enough I guess
now I’m off to bed

The Indigo

In the indigo

we meet like larvae

unaware of each other

but aware of not being alone

yet alone we are

because we are

unaware of each other

we turn

trying to find the light

until we become

aware there is no light

only the indigo