The Certainty of Storms

I will say this about the certainty of storms:
When doors bang shut 
and papers lift and fly from tables,
and sudden darkness presses 
confidentially close to open windows,
we are justified in hoping for a change.
Storms are good redeemers.
But when they sizzle and crash,
and crack the day in two,
the palpitating dog
and the children suddenly downstairs
know something we do not
about the certainty of storms.

July 24 2012

The Dog's Path

The dog's path was extraordinary.
He led me through a shaded wood
along a path that ran out to the marshes.
There I saw the sky
and the marching clouds
and the boaters on the river.
He was white against the green
and the green lay below the blue
and we walked back to the car
and the river came back with us.

July 23 2012

A Grieving Man

I dreamed I was comforting a grieving man
whom I knew but do not now recognize.
There was a death, of course--
what else is grieving for?--
and he couldn't be consoled.
He seemed to be a member of my family,
and how I wanted to help him,
but the depth of the tears in which we floundered
was such that I could not touch the bottom.
I am ashamed to admit that I was glad I woke
so I could turn over in my bed
and start another dream on dry land.
I can't go back; that choice was made for me 
possibly by my helplessness; 
but of course I hope that in his distant dream
where he walks he has found a little ease.

July 16 2012

Summer July 6 2012

Summer made it all more real.
Driving home with the takeout
was like running along a polished blade
that honed its edge on every red light, license plate, and shimmering car.
The dogs' bodies idled on the dazzling decks
and the basketball youths went shirtless down the tar.
Over fences, neighborhood radios tried to outshout 
each others' boasts of love and pride and anger,
but all the mouthless objects of the metal day
were speaking secrets louder than the songs.
It was staggering, the way that blade swept through it all
and left its searing gash of unreadable meaning.
(But consider also that in another place,
the rabbit under the roof of a ragged bush
kept its silent rendezvous, trembling, unthinking, 
with a different, whispered truth of how things are.)

July 6 2012