reading inside on a drizzly night

when I am riding past any house in the slow-gathering night,

in the spaces between trees, I spot the yellow glow,

a square-print sign of other life,

maybe just barely moving—

that soft glow-limned postage stamp above the slick, wet brown exterior,

the secret keeper standing,

door closed—

a safe haven from the rain.

 

in there, they are leaning against one wall, book in hand, I think,

just like me,

only I cannot see them. And then the urge comes, the excited

stirring, to be passing my own mellow square at the same time as

I sit huddled warm in a blanket

in some other reality and I will know

 

I have arrived.

 

me, in the static light watching time pass,

me in the crowded dark outside, passing

with it.

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1 Comment

Filed under poetry

One response to “reading inside on a drizzly night

  1. chelsealaura

    I feel like one day you are going to publish a book of poems, I’m going to read it, and I’m not going to understand any of it LOL. Poetry is too high up in the ranks for my intellectual brain to handle 🙂 And yours seem fraught with lots of meaning and intelligence.

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