Day 4 – Tuesday Night, at the Laundromat

Tuesday Night, at the Laundromat

Someday, I will remember that fog in this city means rain is coming.

I walk in the dark, water runs down my skin and my glasses.

Umbrellas pass me by and I remember.

I have let the downpour cleanse my soul so many times before.

There is a power in knowing one can survive. 

Week 30 – Into the Deluge

Into the Deluge

The rain sweeps down from the scaffolds,

It is like the eye of the storm,

the hurricane that lasts on – 

I am a sinner in a world of saints,

The man playing French horn in the subway,

Dark hands resting on the keys,

Alone together in our imperfection.

The melody walks with me, into the deluge. 

Week 28 – Austenland

Austenland

The rain is softly falling,

Quiet notes of country music fill my ears.

Things are familiar, and warm.

My hands feel small as they turn the pages,

And a large coffee mug sits forgotten on the dresser.

For a moment in the evening,

I can forget myself in the sounds of rain.

Learn to stay in the silence between us,

And fill it with the soft feathers of life.

Never am I lost in this darkness,

In this rain.