thunderclap. two great oaks
and a young man between them
just before it begins to rain
a few leaves on the wind
tumbling before graying skies
the last orange fingers slipping from the fences
as he opens his mouth to ask
the trees say, husssh...

at the end of a walk around the neighborhood
the birds telling tales of their day
as the trees wait against the darkening blue
and i stand for a minute in the driveway
caught by serenity
before taking the steps into the woodgrain warmth
and the television in the other room
the thoughts which float up from my belongings
crowding around my eyes
as i turn on the radio

in the middle of the night
in my bathrobe (for warmth)
bathed in liquid crystal dreams
(the other half of my brain)
i transmit rainlike keystrokes
(while the roof patters above)
a rise and fall
(gravity, breath, seasons, culture, happiness, silence)
in everything

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