Trickle and Creep

Image courtesy of Clay Forever

What is there to say about the sound of raindrops falling on a roof

What of mountains and skylines

Of luckless nights, dark alleys and blackbirds

What is left to say that hasn’t been said

What words are yours alone
What thoughts

What is left at all
But the indignant bleating of mindless sheep
The reflexive outrage of barking dogs
The pious drone of monsters

Until that part of the night
Between the last cricket and the first songbird
When the hour itself puts an end to the clatter
And all fall into quiet

But nature abhors tranquility
Quiet dislodges something kinetic in the atmosphere

Here
Under roof and covers
Behind darkened eyes
Beyond reason
Words come a-begging
Unbidden

Here again
Along the imperfect edge of sleep
They trickle and creep
Among the convoluted shadows of gyri and sulci

Mingling,
Their vapors gather
Accumulating
Saturating
Condensing

Precipitations build
Or collapse into scattering fog

Illusions weigh me down
Abstractions weigh me down
These blankets weigh me down
Not the raindrops

Words struggle
Not rain