the night’s stones weigh
heavy like the cloud -

everything sinks.  

the cry of a bird -
eerie like a ghost -

the night speaks
of autumn, of windows
now shuttered to the
stars, of leaves painted
silver and gold.

a cat wires his claws to the
dark, drops down from a wall,
lands with his fur full of sky.

i asked her to dance.

"so,"  she smiles, "dance with me,

sometimes
I feel like
I'm almost gone

and i want you
to hold me,
she says,
hold me tighter

I want you to feel
my heart beating
and tell me
you'll never
let me go.

will you think of me?"
she asks, smiles,
always?"


rain is the night's
beating heart
icy heart,
wind and rain
and a memory
birds are winging west

tired and broken
the ribbon in her hair
footsteps echo
going down the hall

and i could tell by
her smile
she's not coming back

fumbling
shards of broken heart
fall through cupped fingers    

here comes the night.

I’m listening to gentle praising
the wind praises the trees
as it soughs through the leaves
the leaves tremble at the touch

birds praise the gusting air
as it carries their songs across
the nimble land to my ear
a trilling of joys and feathers

my heart joins in, making the trio
a quartet of flute, timbrel, song, and heartstrings
melodiously transporting all who listen
to join the angel choir in windy praise songs

to Life


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

healthy body bliss
nature’s view I thrive on you
music feeds my core




Shell✨🐚

Awkward
    It is
To be me,
     To be human
Connected in every way
      Yet lonely as hell
Like a ****
        In a garden
Of roses
Or a field of daffodils
Only the one
I feel
Feels this way
So bogus
       Cause
Supposedly
       We're all the same

somewhere in time everything already written
this marvel how everything meets anything
that belongs to a togetherness of darkness
I've been touched by this easiness of travelling
the path between garden and perfume
I've played the fool who believed images
so ready to commute in an endless still
pursuit of the chimera of truth

you know, there is this hidden dimension where
time and space haven't invented their names yet
cause they annihilate each other endlessly
there is this pain like a worm in an eagle's sight
so sensitive the spring of words
that time touches us with this wonder
a merciful road between chance and necessity

all the hope of a blind dawn in my writing hands
like a morning awaiting its silence
there is nowhere to hide from pain
in the end