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