Alone

 Alone

 

The rain sifts down from the gray-feathered skies

and I walk on earth as if through clouds.

On the street, misty strangers pass

without acknowledgment,

intent on unknown destinations, 

wrapped in their waterproof cocoons,

behind umbrella shields, 

heads bent, collars turned, 

shoulders sprinkled with the diamond-dust

of not-quite-rain.

Unremarked, I wander on, 

in trenchcoat and fedora,

myself a solitary shadow,

silently slipping 

across the border of 

reality and dreams.

 

 

 

 

Birds

 

The chatter outside my door 

calls me, and I glance outside: 

dozens of small brown chirpers,

gathered and gossiping

like a choir awaiting 

the tap-tap-tap of a baton:

there, in my tree,

waiting to perform.

My fountain’s warm-up music

tinkles in the background

and the susurration of the leaves

sounds the orchestral prelude.

I stand at the window

waiting to applaud.