Monday, the 29th of August

A soul’s cycle

I nailed the coffee

this morning

just the right quantities

and of course I’d replenished 

the turbinado and whole cream. 

The sun pieced through

what was left of the tempest

only calm and my bucket of rocks

capping with forgotten rain water.

Who would have known

from its translucent repose

that it came down with

fierce animosity — or perhaps

more closely resembling

a state of urgency.

It was all invisible,

it struck in the night

only at times did

the lightning hit

and X-ray the earth

revealing skeletons of

tree, house and grand-father’s

granite rock.

Now the serenity, the loon’s call

and chickadee blur the memory

of the steamy rain fall,

its intensity, ever increasing,

its remonstrance, its admonition,

and certainly its peaking pleasure.

Read more