soft rain
every tree seems
to be weeping
why oh why do you rue
for the uncontrite
soft rain
every tree seems
to be weeping
why oh why do you rue
for the uncontrite
summer morning walk
the hum of condenser fans
joins choir of bird songs
more than ever the feeling
that everything belongs
summer’s long twilight
a flycatcher feasts on gnats
nothing else matters
can it really be
the pulse beating in my arm
the breath that I take
disappearing
with the rain puddles
clear blue sky