Unseen rain four hours away on the black horizon.
While you focus on the empty branches above your head
the stars blur into overcast, a milky blue apology
the child within me will not accept.
The Cape Cod inlets flow through him
like the roots of these trees thread mountains.
He is a trick of the light, of beach grass and sand.
And now the days are too short, he will never get home.
Reflections, Early October Rain
In the rain on the street’s surface
each house shimmers its inner life
when my eyes water with memory
the homes break into ten thousand drops
Sunset Over the Mountain As Seen Through a Cloud and a Crack in a Windshield
Behind the cloud mass the sun is uncoiling and coiling
dragon wrapped around itself spitting fire behind a waterfall
And for a moment as I think of home it is eclipsed entirely
by an imperfection in the windshield where six months ago
a pebble fell from nowhere as I drove up this very mountain’s
westward spine bounced with a crack, oblivion leaving its mark
A man wise in these things called this a “star break”
and of no danger to the integrity of my vision
Soon sun the mountain will shrug you off you will drop below
the ragged day’s line into tomorrow while I take the only road
I can to find what I left is now ahead of me and waiting behind
a light in windows, laughter drifting through the gap