Umbrellas

We took our shirts off and
Took turns running up the
Driveway during a heavy
Soaking rain jumping in
What always became a large
Puddle at the corner by
The street then running back
In haste into the garage whose

Emptiness amplified the
Thunderings of nature
Flexing its will and we
Stood at the doorway with
Wrinkled fingers
Bodies slightly shaking with chills
Listening and watching quietly.

We never stopped to think
That the umbrellas were gathering
Dust in the front coat closet
While we were boys being boys.
And that there is enough life
To live as a man, soaking rains
Don’t last forever.

Original concept
8 March 2006

Advertisements

The Carelessness Of A Summer Holiday

Memory played Southbound


As I drove north on I-75.

Dreaming of nothing in particular.

Almost seventy degrees
On a twenty-third of February.
The picture window of my
Apartment wide open and
The sheer white curtain plays
Along lightly to the musings
Of the outdoors.

Propped up on the couch.
And writing things in open
Secret like the sun shining
Behind the overcast world outside.

This feeling is like a morning fog.
Slowly but quickly evaporating
Into a dream I cannot quite remember.
And in Februarys yet to come I
Will wonder when this uncommon
Respite will again appear
But until then, in this ephemerality,
It is the carelessness of a
Summer holiday as a creed.