Sinking Sound Apostasy

[Original date of writing unknown, circa 2015]

Standing on the street corner there’s a sinking sound,

pretty wet rainboots waiting at the bus stop

and furry leather gloves clutching an umbrella

as if it was a protective lover;

toes tending inward,

squeezing and bent so slightly

and shivering,

do her slender legs know what they’ve done?

Captivating the spatter inside this city,

plans move inside.

Steering captains wade through the street traffic

still acting as if they are on the way to somewhere.

The rain brings the spirit back home,

dredging through the realms of anxiety

and looping through the natural melancholy

on which the mind resides,

sifting out grandiose musings such as

who and what will matter after today’s opportunity to lie in bed.

I wonder if the woman in the cafe

endures the quiet of mind which so many seek.

She’s overflowing in flesh like and unkempt pistache,

as if it had been overblown and fixated on its own pleasure.

Still I wonder who is in the more serene reality.

Does she by way of experience,

appreciate the serenity of the gift of replenishment,

lavishly?

Maybe we’re too obsequious to ourselves,

but her plate is still only half-finished!!

Incessantly the rain goads my pleasures

of the tranquil apostacy, of modern busyness.

Just another sip of coffee

and a long stare

soothes my spirits…

What is is about natural repetition?

Waves crashing and raindrops

are a universal talent of Nature

to take the minds off of the Trivial.

Birds chirping and goats grazing

keep my thoughts from boiling

through my head,

and at least then I can understand their likeness

to meaningless toil.

They can only do what they were born to do.

Maybe I should start eating grass,

or anything else

that’s so lucky to be put in front of me.