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.
