Tuesday, August 19, 2014

the rains come

i will
come back
to myself

    iguana
    skylark
    ichthyosaur

after years
of grieving

    cloudbank
    green sap rising
    granite butte



i need a river or pond
to see myself
says the cloud
so finally

she opens

to make mirror



the rains come

2 comments:

  1. mmm...tender imagery, Scooter. I can see, hear, smell, the space you're deliniating.
    Thanks.
    Rachel

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks Rachel, yes I enjoyed this poem, which more came through and had a different ending cadence than ones I usually think of as "my" poems. Perhaps, not surprising, the cloud has its own poetic voice?

    ReplyDelete