Thursday, March 23, 2017

March Evening Poetics Octet

the rain is typing letters on my shoulders
or is it poems? poor rain, a poet too—

fallen stars—but optimistic—daffodils
nod & take this all in against the stone wall—

rain’s phrases glint so fast across the pavement’s
mirror pages, there’s no way to follow—still

soul gets no break in that bamboo thicket where
syllables take shape: drizzle leaf flower love

Jack Hayes
© 2017

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