Cold rain falls in the river, flows down to the sea, gets into the skyline, circles endlessly. Same old rain on the wind, same old pain in my soul.

Friday, February 20, 2009

every Wednesday

Conversations can be a strange thing. One says one thing yet the other hears otherwise. Who’s on first? Second Base! Some people favor the laziness of Sunday, others the playfulness of Saturday. I love every Wednesday.

have you ever seen an ocean
that devours in love
and blushes in passion?
every Wednesday


have ever you seen the moonlight
when it greens
the pale earth
and lions quit the hunt?
every Wednesday.

I see

brooks sing rhymes in
gentle passing,
mourning doves
coo lovers to sleep,
and soft fuzzy sweaters
know warmth for two.

did these things you know?


I know! I know! every Wednesday you say,
but how can this thing be so?

why not Tuesday, or Friday,
or every third Sunday?
and cannot a Wednesday know rain that discomforts?

Yes, but not every Wednesday.
every Wednesday’s rain
would stream easy in sunshine
and gentle the flower’s growth.

every Wednesday’s snow
would blanket in soft beauty,
yet make for happy snowmen.

what of last Wednesday?
when winds tore and roofs fled?

yes, last Wednesday was bad.

and next Wednesday?
when cars crash?
and people die?

yes, a bad Wednesday indeed.

you admit,
Wednesdays are not always
of beauty and love?
not always of dance
and sweet song?

only every Wednesday.
~ I was just feelin silly and non-sensical. There is no hidden meaning or thought. Sorry