Clocks
On a day when all the clocks are wrong
and the soaking rain and rough wind gusts
will not be tamed,
our road is littered with tossed branches,
our travels push into choppy currents,
the roaring wind's music issues changes
as soft as the thunder's crack.
Then, as quickly, change is a bird song.
The trees present their pink hopes,
and sudden memory of love rushes in,
beautiful dreams.
(3/13 & 3/14/2011)
No comments:
Post a Comment