Poetry

Looking at the Clouds of Rain

The clouds on the horizon look

like snow capped mountains,

something I haven’t seen

in a decade or so.

Their shape is implanted

in my brain.

These clouds are real

but they are not mountains.

The mountains seldom change.

Right? Right?

Perhaps I’ll see them again

one day

if the clouds don’t drown me first–

I know they’re still there.

Poetry

Spurious Correlation

Do you watch

the menagerie of beasts

parade along in formation

coolly in the blue

yonder up above?

Have you seen

the glistening stars

wink at you

when they mistook

the sparkle in your eyes?

Would you believe

that the rain

sometimes waits for you

to open your books

and warm your drink?

That the sun

would shine on you

no matter

what you think?