STREAM OF CONSCIOUSNESS SATURDAY
I can’t be the only one thinking morning comes too soon, and if we can put men on the moon, why can’t we change the feel of rain. It rained all night, and now there’s a magpie legging about in the gutter by the bedroom window. Magpies haven’t a clue how to sing. They thunder about like deaf prophets. And I apparently crave the impossible, to sleep half the day away – like I used to do when I was 15. You know, for old time’s sake – because that storm last night was full-on, the oak trees creaking, and I cringed with every rattling gust. I half expected the earth to be bald this morning. I wouldn’t mind rain, if it wasn’t so wet.
A flood of darkness
The moon’s hiding in slow rain
And poetry books
Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday “a rainy day”. Image: Floods (‘L’Inondation’) by Charles Guilloux of 1893. Van Gogh Museum (fair usage) ©Misky 2022 Shared with #socs #amwriting #apoemaday on Twitter