Evening Poem, March 10, 2015

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NIGHT VIEW FROM THE BACK PORCH

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The silken rush of wet tires along the wet road

passing, passing, passing by.

The whine of another motor, at first sounding reluctant

Then, as the headlights violate my comfortable darkness

The engine sounds loud and aggressive

As if it thought it could scare me

And it does scare me.

.

The cars gone now

I hear only the sweet, steady drip of the slow rain

Onto the soggy lawns, weary from snow

The flat earth yawns and opens its pores

To drink and wash

In this first taste of spring

Hear the quiet drops, absorbed into the soft grass

now here, now there

This lawn, that lawn, close and distant.

Drink, wash, drink, wash.

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Beneath the streetlamp the branches of the saplings

Still winter-naked

Shine stark and lonely, like ancient antlers.

Rainbeads hanging from the the wires above

Are pulsing diamonds against the sky.

Copyright 2015

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