It is nothing, really, but a damp breeze
through the screen door rattling papers
on my desk, clearing the evidence

of last night’s flat bread from the kitchen
before returning to morning black—
light drops on a metal roof.

Fourth dry summer of drought,
it sweeps dust from my brain,
teases hair on my bare chest

as if I were wild, alive again—
as if we might escape this hell,
rinse the taste from our mouths.

Too early to storm, it is nothing, really,
but a damp breeze playing rain—
a few gods revisiting survivors

and the dead—playing with the possibility
of change. Once again, I am reminded
that nothing stays the same.


6 responses to “IDES OF SEPTEMBER

  1. A glorious photo, John. Hopefully soon that damp breeze will be a steady rain and you can go outside and dance in in.


    Liked by 1 person

  2. The second golden hour photo I’ve seen this morning. I never tire of sunrise and sunset lighting. I am looking forward to not reading fire reports. Hoping all stays safe in your neck of the woods.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. 2 1/2 inches in LA. Was hoping it would reach you

    Liked by 1 person

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