Perihelion days

A friend writes, in Texas
it is nearly a hundred & fifty
degrees in the shade. There’s been
almost no rain all spring & plants
are dying; while in January, in Ain
Sefra, snow fell on the sands
of the Sahara for two days. Burnt
orange sand flecked with white
like a creamsicle, while in Baguio
there’s no way to completely dry
laundry as rains pour as if
without end, & streets fill
with floodwater. Once we saw one
swallow after another emerge
from somewhere along the edge
of a train track— a nest,
improbably, beneath the constant
rumble of wheels. The station clock
chimes the noon hour, when shadows
disappear and its two hands come
together as if in prayer.


In response to Via Negativa: Bourbonic.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.