Apricocks... Be kind and courteous to this gentleman; Hop in his walks and gambol in his eyes; Feed him with apricocks and dewberries, With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; The honey-bags steal from the humble-bees, And for night-tapers crop their waxen thighs And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, To have my love to bed and to arise; -Shakespeare: Midsummer Night's Dream
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Rain
Have you ever watched the sky
turn into water watched it thicken
like a plot first mist then droplets
until wetness is all the reality
you know as the story of your life
confuses soddenness with nourishment
baptism with drowning as you recall
the pool beneath the waterfall where
once you sank in cold and damp death
almost as you grasped for nothing there
flailing about over your head gasping for air
filling your lungs with choking water
somehow gaining enough leverage to
raise your head up into the waterfall
droplets having gathered into water walls
warm walls you might embrace but cold
you flee as if your life would wash away
Jack 2-1-15
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)