Poetry

Thoughts from a November morning, a few years ago

November Rain. (November 13, 2009)

 

A window opens

just a crack.

This morning it lets in the mist.

It’s wooden frame

surrounds

an impressionists landscape.

A branch of Mexican Floss

reaches through it

For a swollen sky.

 

This is Dawn’s tantalizing

Choreography.

Raindrops sparkle

like diamonds on the pink

Even in this grey light.
From somewhere in the distance, a voice.

Raga Todi.

Vilambit khayal, teen taal.

heavy, deep.

Even music can be silent

Like daybreak’s noise.

Odd thought.

 

Winter’s solitude

Blankets the mind.

Cocoons

Erases

Writes over

Memory.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s