It wasn't raining as I stirred, turned my pillow cool side up, and went drifting off again, but I thought about the coolness of that pillow, later, while I was shaving, thought about the sound of rain ... and about this poem.
So here it is again:
AUTUMN DREAMS
Softly, the rain
descends, puddling
in the darkly
glistening street,
pausing to quench
the thirsting roof
before dripping,
a muffled sighing,
to the ground.
descends, puddling
in the darkly
glistening street,
pausing to quench
the thirsting roof
before dripping,
a muffled sighing,
to the ground.
Wind chimes stir,
and the cows
are suddenly home,
winding along
that narrow path
where the sun
lately streamed.
and the cows
are suddenly home,
winding along
that narrow path
where the sun
lately streamed.
I stir, savoring
quilted warmth,
softness of pillow,
go drifting off
again like a puff
of milkweed.
© 2000
(originally published in St. Anthony Messenger)
Today's word: puddling
1 comment:
Hey, I like this one! Keep up the good work!
Post a Comment