June 24

comment 1
poetry

Where does it come from?
The sky, like rain,

or from the far corner
at night, when the world

is rendered in ground glass,
from outside, a front,

low pressure or high–
I’ve never believed

in inexorable, but these days
do give me pause

.

As Simon said to Garfunkle,
I get the news I need

on the weather report
and as God said to Noah,

hey, you better build a boat,
although charitably,

a flood could be billed
as an uprising–

.

Today on the rooftop
several swallows

flying or falling
at unexpected angles,

one hungry sparrow
and water pooled

on aluminum tables
and no one else around,

the city below a sea
of sound and indiscriminate

figures, and in low clouds
an airplane, felt, not seen,

so much bearing down
even up here

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1 Comment

  1. The last stanza made me laugh. I do enjoy reading your words. Thanks for the poem to start my day.

    Like

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