No moon, no stars,
she sneaks up canyon
in the dark an hour late

gently whispering
from the black
as if she never left.

A sprinkle kisses the roof
I cannot see, but hear
find its way to earth.

After midnight, my mother
would turn the porch light off,
so no one knew I wasn’t home

when we had neighbors, trails
between cabins in the mountains
I knew by braille

and by the sound
of my young feet, light
upon the night trails.

In the end, no one cares
exactly when it rained—
only that it came.


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 )

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

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.