Window in a Storm

Image result for raindrops on windows

Like the drowning ghosts of

Altar candle flames, buds of rain

Seek, so desperate hard, to defy

Gravity,

Destiny.

Unseen cheeks and faces

Pressed against unforgiving,

Merciless pane;

Imagined mouths voicing

Silent screams as

Slip becomes recognition

Of ending:

The thunder that can never be heard,

The deeps that will not be denied

Are claiming their once-bright souls.

Heading for the Borders

If it wasn’t rain,

It will be;

Sooner than you know.

 

And if it hasn’t

Risen just yet,

Wait a while,

For it will …

Though it may not be visible

Even to those who have faith.

 

This is snow

Long before it was snow …

And the same snow

Long after it has fallen.

I am where my forebears dreamed

They would never be:

Above the land and looking down;

Heading for the borders of belief.

 

 

Before the Rain …

This is the rain

That isn’t really rain –

That comes before the rain

That will be –

But why the fuss?

Didn’t we always know the

Summer wouldn’t last forever?

If it wasn’t what you wanted

Surely there’s only your self

To blame for that?

December’s insanities,

Brewing in the still room

Begin to giggle, little

Secret red bubbles;

The dark that isn’t real darkness,

That comes before

The dark that is:

What’s next?

 Really?

You have to ask?

Surely that’s the question

Best left to answer itself?

Murder’s Professor

Fierce-proud crow-piper am I

On Prospero’s good-wind, miller days,

Born of winter raven-burn,

Murder’s elegant professor,

Confessor to fictions.

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