Sometimes it gets so lonely

Rain beginning with purpose, then hesitating

at the sixth sense of

 

someone’s there. I also drop as they pass

the loosely rolled outside world

grind toe,

wait,

stoop

pick up

brush birdseed cast aside from upstairs window ledge

 

resuming, and the rain

in some parts of the world

putting out great fires, darkening brickwork,

nurturing streams

 

scrutinising, gauging

how utter the put-out fire

how absolute the flood, how well negotiated

the tidemark

this time –

 

Upstairs, the needle dances to its own crackled waltz

 

 

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