Speaking softly now in a still lingering light
Measured in long peeks out the window,
Until the life of darkness
Resumes the ongoing day:
Slipping,
Stretching,
Into something else.
.
Some of us lost the light
Before we were even able
To sequester its sparkling splendor
In some imaginary pause.
.
I walked right past the bus!
.
That’s how it grabbed me:
Before I could even catch up to it
And after it was long gone.
.
Now cardboard afternoons,
To box the passage of days,
And the frayed edges of old towels
Hanging stiff along a sagging clothesline:
Barely swinging back and forth.
Shaken Rain 