In the Month of Your Birthday
Mid-afternoon storm hours behind me, on the walk home.
Slight breeze triggers rain in the maple, cascading
leaf to leaf in the layers of small shadowed sky, not a memory
of rain but the actual rain, retained, in the vast shadows, actually
falling, and isn’t memory an actual thing moving in a real space,
and like the rain in this maple, not touching the ground.
Lovely words. I like the way you layered the words, themselves like a cascade.
Good to see you, Mary!
I am reading this fine poem on my birthday
Happy Birthday, Derrick!
Thank you, Mary
Ah ha! That is a fine coincidence…