9:14 a.m. - 2011-11-14
Now and Then
The dream lies like a puddle.
I step carefully over it,
onto the safe, dry ground
of now.
Still, it trails me,
forging rivulets
into the parched, cracked soil.
The sun is electric,
burning a desert where
once there was green.
Still, the memory of rain
will not extinguish.
I am tracked by the sound
of thunder,
pursued into the black of night
by a tapping on the roof.
Even the scent
of dew on shrubs
haunts the symmetry of
my new life.
I linger on the in-breath
of the humid recollection,
filling my soul
with the perfume of then.
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