RSS Feed

gold leaves in the rain

gold leaves in the rain
falling bright
wipers clear them
from the windshield,
toss them aside
dirt road
where I can stop
right in the middle
(middle of this road
middle early in the day
middle later in my life)
I can stop
and scribble down words
on this back road
before all our words
are carried away or rinsed away
by the rest of the day
(just as the rain
just as the gold leaves)
Look, here—
when I stop moving
leaves settle on the hood,
on the windshield
we all pause for a breath,
rest and wait to see
what words come

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

A Hundred Falling Veils

there's a poem in every day

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

%d bloggers like this: