Poem #3 for National Poetry Month.
Slamming out a poem at 11:39 pm to beat the deadline.

 Poem #3 Untitled

The clock ticks a steady beat

As the soft curtain of rain does double time out my window

I sit on the couch thinking of a time

When rain was much warmer and inviting

We’d run and play for hours, drenched to the bone laughing

Tilting our heads up towards the sky for a drink of warm goddess nectar

That filled us with laughter and simple elegance on the spring lawns of strangers

Inside my home twenty years hence I am warm here

The rain outside is a cold wet curtain

Pulled tight against the black coal night

My neighbor’s lights are blazing yellow as a caution

A sudden stop coming or perhaps go that I don’t sense

Who are these people surrounding me?

The tick of the clock tells me I have no time to get to know them

Even though it is spring there are fall leaves still piled in my driveway

Sinking into the wet earth rotting

Crumpled, cracked to blow and stick on someone else

I want the green

I want the warm shower

I reach for the clock to unplug it

Still the rain doesn’t stop