Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Weather Song

A look at writer's block put to an end by sudden inspiration and a drastic change in weather conditions.

Weathersong2 by Gwendrina

Rain falls. The rhythm of hands
on small drums, a jazz percussionist
who wants to show off  --  saying
he has come to wake
the desert and my bones
which have not sung in days
.                                   upon days
                                         upon days.

The cold beat, my body’s alive, this tower
of birds startled, shaking off lint.
A blue mood that has clung
and gathered for too long ---
                               the hours’ ruin,
                                            Sylvia’s dust.

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