A Bird Calls Through the Rain

01 Aug
Our morning porch-gasm was interrupted.

Not by a miserable jilted (lover?) or a random robocall,
but by a downpour, which meant the dog and I
had to move swiftly to let her squeeze out
before we were both sopping wet. Still,
the pitter-patter and rumblings are symphonic
compared to cellular so-called
"communication," which often seems
more masturbatory than genuine. 

The pit didn't like 
getting wet, but loved it when I toweled
her off.

When was the last time you powered
the mole off & just
listened to the rain?

Leave a comment

Posted by on August 1, 2021 in Poetry



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: