On the rain, seven

by on November 1, 2022 :: 0 comments

Nine on the nightingale
four on the firmament, six
on the cirrus clouds, clanking.

On the rain, I wrote seven.

I wrote through the stink hours
the stars in remiss; the moon
weeping over the wildflowers.

While the pen bled the blues
I just wrote

as the night grew more lonely

the night you went back
to her.

editors note:

Some things you can always count on. – mh clay

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