I thought October would take the edge off.
After all, there’s no way this fickle light
and a few chance rains
Could turn my head any further.
.
Now the garden is all dead,
The light,
All left to morning now,
Just like yesterday,
And then again.
Please give me this solace,
Wanted and waited for,
Just this day.
.
Until you visit me in December,
With your gauze of reckoning
Perched overhead.
.
Then, I’ll remember the river,
All fog bound and sullen,
Bit by bit,
Tearing to pieces
The lives of nothing.
.
I hope your storms will roar,
Dark, dripping days,
Left with just a little ray of light,
Catching one more leaf,
Falling,
Into some forgotten cradle.
Shaken Rain 