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
white

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.


***