After The Rain The silence is only an illusion. It’s just that we do not always hear What is actually still there. The echoes of the rain, Stored in memory, Play over again as the dripping remnants Give a rhythmic tapping serenade. The chaotic winds rise and fall as they cause The rustling of leaves … Continue reading After The Rain
As I press my hand to the brass knob Level with my blurred line of sight, Releasing the bolt which holds the door firmly closed, Streaks of brilliant light flood the foyer Through the beveled prisms Of my uncertainty. A mechanical clack announces the release Of the lock as I step tentatively backward, To allow … Continue reading A Wistful Winter Morning
John's Consciousness 