The cats look out like coast guards on this soggy day;
they watch the birds bathe and squirrels run out of the trees.
Spring clean the litter away, sunlight
picking up every speck of winter’s gray evidence.
Monday again and the rain has stopped, I want him
to photograph the cherry blossoms, in such a way, to inspire.
This renovated space falls apart, old pipe
and broken balcony; the impermanence of things.
Thoughts on an open site – an invitation to write,
to writers, more text to read; another angle of the word.
A red flare rockets, a piece of an old ship
carries ghosts and artifacts, time and uncertainty.
Paint a picture of a past event; the colour is never the same and when is it okay
to blend the colours into something imagined, based on story, and share it?
Possibilities lift from our pillows, and manifest into
real time, a real day – the future not so far.
A phone call can mean everything; tell you who you are
where you’re going next, the weight of those thin lines that connect.
The alarm clock fails to tell him it is morning;
a sudden burst of shower and swearing, cats scatter.