April 16, 2010

NaPoWriMo #16


The air smells fresh and wet
like soggy mud.

Rain dissolves
into moist air, and the stream
bubbles past
just a little higher.

Over my head, the bendy
branches of lonely trees
spread in a
sprawling mass of leaves
and green under the sky.

I watch and wait for nothing,
pulling up weeds along
the bank and throwing them
out into the swishing
volume of water.

All alone in a
quiet fantasy, all alone.

I guess I've been writing about rain because that's kind of what it looks like every day here. Not to say I'm complaining; I love rain.


Myrna Foster said...

Your poem made me feel at peace. Rain usually does that for me too - kinda cool.

Jessie Carty said...

i really like the 4th stanza :)