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Gloomy Wednesday here;
all aches and feeling my age.
It is my rain song

Perhaps I should call.
It has been a little time
between then and now.

My mind is blank here
all syllables and structure
keep eluding me.

The wet lands smiling
the green recovers quickly
from yesterday's frost.

Discuss the weather?
See how I am sunk so low?
Good thing there's no *****.
The misty sprites in speckled shadows
dance among the ferns on the forest floor.
Hemlock and western red cedar giants
tower above the fungus jungle on the rotting leaves.
The sun alters the smell of rain,
and a light wind coaxes the wet from the branches.
I think as quietly as I can
because I am an intruder.
i frequent the bars
       dumpsters
and graveyards
       i like the graveyards
best
        you cant beat the
conversation
see the scatter of tea grains
in the bottom of
plain white porcelain
hold your breath and tip the water
watch the steam rising
pale specks swimming
fold your legs and lift the cup
sink into the weightlessness
of this ancient beauty
can you almost taste the history?

— The End —