sometimes, life moves like a biblical deluge. 
other times, emptiness fills the chambers of the heart. 

* * * * *

last night, i slept with an uncertainty i could not do without.
the rain fell—heavy and strong—upon my rooftop.

this morning, i recognize something new:
rain has its consequences.

now, the trees are dressed in silver and flavored with mist. 
the moss rises to grasp the newly emerging branches. 
i stand at the edge of a visitant breeze, observing
the soundless evolution of this process. 

last night’s dream presses its lips against mine. 

my memory opens like a window to
the pale descent of day.