rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Dry

Today brought only sprinkles, but the sky has been freighted with splendid clouds. Looking skyward I can imagine the storm that didn't happen, water sheeting the street, pine boughs bent under the running weight of it, he sound of thousands of tiny drums drumming. Returning my gaze to the ground I see the gray pavement, the still trees, and hear the evening chatter of dry woodpeckers. Soon the frogs will begin to croak. They at least still have water.



Sunday Verse



Waking Up After the Storm

by Charles Wright


It's midnight. The cloud-glacier breaks up,
Thunder-step echoes off to the east,
            And flashes like hoof sparks.
Someone on horseback leaving my dream.

Senseless to wonder who it might be, and what he took.
Senseless to rummage around in the light-blind stars.
                  Already
The full moon is one eye too many.
Subscribe

  • Reset Thirty-Five, Day Sixteen

    A lot of sleeping at a lot of odd hours, and a lot of woolgathering at most of the others, and Wednesday vanished like Tuesday's clouds, but leaving…

  • Reset Thirty-Five, Day Fifteen

    Well, I did it again with the midnight napping thing. Even though I got to sleep before sunrise Tuesday, I still ended up short of sleep because I…

  • Reset Thirty-Five, Day Fourteen

    Monday was sunny but cool, and I've sat here for two hours nodding off without thinking of a singe pertinent thing to say. I've been very tired, and…

  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 3 comments