Saturday, May 26, 2012


…Yesterday I wrote poetry.  For a bit I did.
Here’s one short poem that came of it:
Since You

I watched a man fall a tree today.
He must have known the strange danger of root systems.
His truck couldn’t carry all the wood.
When he returns, I aim to tell him
a proper story about murder.

 …Last night just, before dark, it rained harder than I’ve ever seen it.  I rose from my desk and stood by a window in my office that overlooks the lake and watched the torrent.  The lake looked like puckered green skin, rippled goose flesh.  No one was out on the lake but there were empty boats at a few docks, uncovered, and I wondered if the boats might fill with rain and sink.  I wondered how hard it is for eagles to fly through a downpour such as that.  I wondered what it’d be like to be a fish looking up at the surface and thought it’d likely be a little frightening, a fish’s way of thinking Armageddon had arrived.

The rain sounded like a hailstorm but without the pinging ring.  If I needed to talk to someone I would have had to shout, so it’s probably a good thing I was alone.

It rained so hard, rain bouncing off the lake and ground and other rain pools, that the shore on the other side became sheathed in a mist and houses disappeared behind the fog so that the silhouettes of trees was the only thing visible, but even they had a ghostly quality, something from a Slasher movie maybe.

After quite a long while, the downpour decreased to heavy drizzle.  Wind came out of nowhere, slicing sideways, and sure enough an eagle flew overhead, a little, slippery fish caught in its talons.

It’s raining again, tears on my window.  They must be happy tears, though, because I’m smiling.

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