Things are different.
I don't know when they changed
or when I noticed them changing.
But in any case,
my eyes are open now
and I see that things are upside down.
At first it was just a drop
here and there.
An odd interaction
or a surprising text.
But now
it is steadily raining-
a consistent and strong pitter-patter
above my head.
And now,
my head is tilted back
my eyes closed
enjoying the storm
and waiting for the downpour.
Poetry is hard in the winter.
It is inexplicable but,
for me,
definitely true.
In the spring, summer, and fall,
there are limitless possibilities,
endless inspirations.
I wish I could see the world like a puzzle
with each piece
having one
rightful
place.
But there is far too much
idealist romantic
in me
for that to be the case.
I think
Misting
slowly, a dusting of pearly droplets
coats the world.
each one lands separately,
but over time, they all combine.
joining forces
melting together
to overtake the earth.
Comments
Log in or register to post comments.