Friday, September 18, 2009

Vacancy

After the storm I wander the riverbank
and watch the trees deform and reform in the wind



Raindrops have hung themselves out to dry
on every line and filament,



and snails drowse
on the high ground of the switchgrass.



The footfall of the housefly



echoes in rift between summer and autumn.



I listen with an eye of water.

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