Some days you look out

Some days you look out
and it might be raining,
though the sun is pouring
liquid gold over the
trees and sidewalks,

or you see a dandelion
seed parachute by and it’s
dead January and
ten below zero and you
can’t feel your fingers,

or you hear a single last
cicada still singing
desperately somewhere
in the autumn underbrush,

and you shrug because
you know tomorrow
it will all make sense,
though it won’t.

It will not be the sun
or the rain or January
or a cicada’s shrill song
that has changed,
but you.


I’m moving this blog to this site from blogger.  If you’re familiar with it from there, welcome, you’ve found it!  If not, welcome all the same and I hope you’ll browse through the 58 or so poems I’ve imported from the old host.  Nothing is missing except the tags.

I’m partly still a bit under construction here.  Expect some changes in the next week or so, as I adapt to the new environment.  Wish me luck!