untitled by moominsean
Rain on certain days acts like
crocodile tears. I hear
the weather in places that aren’t
Here
brings the brain down
But
I’ve found the mud only sticks
to soles that don’t know they’re
tracking it in.
My hands scrubbed the rest of me
raw but the spots
I couldn’t
Reach
remain old news
with the fine print I must have missed
at the bottom–
Patterns can’t predict with certainty
What
will come
but when animals show fear of the sun,
it’s safe to assume
a storm is brewing.
Should you need shelter, simply bury
head in clean hands.
—————————————————-
We didn’t know we were tapping to a
rain dance
but now there’s
Fresh
grass in the yard at least.
Another great piece from the Flagstaff Missed Connections. This one reminds me of mindgallery – especially the closing segment. I’ve selected photos from moominsean to accompany poems (which didn’t include an image) many times over the years – it’s worth checking out their profile on Flickr!
