Impression, with Rain and Buds

This entry is part 86 of 95 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Winter 2010-11


Hard rain falling into slush, fog thickening— cloud into cloud, gathered fistfuls of spray. I cannot tell where the edge of the lilac begins, cannot remember when I last glowed yellow like its buds. Incandescense is a hard word to track. On the streets, cars swerve or drive through intersections of water; it’s high tide too. The trees stipple with milk-white and tender pink blooms. How can there be such things in the world, almost oblivious to suffering?

Luisa A. Igloria
03 10 2011

In response to today’s Morning Porch entry (via Blackberry).

Series Navigation← Letter to the Hungry GhostsAfter Hokusai’s Thirty Six Views →


5 Replies to “Impression, with Rain and Buds”


    How can there be things almost oblivious to suffering?
    How can there be glorious sunsets?
    How can there be spring flowers?
    How can there be singing birds?
    How can there be children laughing?
    How can there be mothers rearing?
    How can there be patriots dying?
    How can there be being instead of nothing?

    –Albert B. Casuga

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