Green winds trouble the water

Green winds trouble the water
and rain opens its generous envelope.

It is like this every day at this
time of year: the mind’s tendency

to huddle into itself to make
better sense of itself, as the world

outside tries to remember. On rooftops,
small mallets of water at work

through the night. Moths
still as auguries on the white

sill. Memory the only dry field,
preparing its halls for exhibit.

 

In response to Via Negativa: Mendicant.

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