An Autumn Weekday


The clouds silence the rain

Their gray fleece blanket

Has engulfed the whole town

We surrender our moods to darkness

Though we’re more alive in the rain

The dust of Quakers drink from the heavens

And Native Indian souls drink w/the eyes of trees

-         voraciously sucking from the roots

Under yellow, green, orange, burgundy & red

Wet black bark escapes the hot fire

And we’re all drunk on fine brandy

We’re all full of tea and coffee

The daughters are out of school

Looking for warm skin to wrap in

Mothers are piercing meats & working on

Fathers are wondering how not be wrong

And this old creek rushes down stream

Now full of the life of running water

It carries away my cares to the river

Flowing all the way to the sea

Where my thoughts fall off the horizon

And are read by the city of Atlantis