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
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