Wednesday, March 18, 2015

The dry season


close to the end of a dry season

i went to a park
sat on the grass

breath the warm breeze
that sweeps over the blue
reservoir waters, watch the waves
lap and overlap

i pulled out a notebook
and pen, trying to
catch all in words

onto an empty page that was glaringly

the words

        were reluctant
        having been quiet
left in the dark

       for so long

       i pressed the tip of the pen against
       the paper

forced out lines that brought
more regret than reflection

Nature is simpler
an ant in the grass

so i began again:
an ant in the grass.