Inkling

This morning, the ground is wet. Rain has fallen. Drops still cling to the branches I see peering out a window as I sit in Sunday’s soft chair.

Image result for rain drops clinging to branches

Inkling

I’m almost certain
the brown sparrows
gossiping

where seed
has scattered beneath

the myrtle’s thin limbs
wait to snatch the warmth
this new sun has invested

in the subtlety
of each raindrop,

bright with heat,
clinging to the branches
above them.

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2 thoughts on “Inkling

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