Trickle and Creep

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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
And 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 accumulate

Saturations
Condensations

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