Outside

Outside, in night, the startled beat of wings
The lake's cool breath disquieting the trees
The sometime rustle of nocturnal things
The hum of thunder carried on the breeze
The water idly pawing at the shore
Inside, at rest, we listen still for more

Outside, in night, the sirens' urgent scream
The boozy laughter from the closing bar
The wailing beggar, shaken from a dream
The thudding music oozing from a car
The dustbin navigations of the poor
Inside, at rest, we listen still for more

Outside, in night, the reconciled note
The crashing sweet abandonment of swords
The choruses of angels in full throat
The rushing sweep of unimagined chords
The sound of someone waiting at the door
Inside, at rest, we listen still for more

Drought

We talked about the rain as though it sat
In some adjoining town, perhaps too drunk
To know that we had work we needed done,
Long overdue, a no good sodden sot,
The crumpled rent check wadded in his vest

And when it wouldn't come and wouldn't come
We couldn't do and couldn't raise or pay;
Farms clawed with tidy rows of brittle stalks;
Vast fields of spiky weeds rising from dust;
The twisted fruit trees barren of their yield.

There is loss, too, in that which never comes.

Discourses

The day that my grandfather died
I sat on the loose-shingled roof
Atop the beaten shed that stood
Behind his gray and gabled house

And watched the sun burn hot and hard
Just over tree line past the park
Until the only substance left
Was vapor purple, orange, and gold

Escorted off by silent hosts

My first extended chat with ghosts