happy rain

i thought of calling this poem rain happy. it wasn't clear to me which way to say the water falling is clear and clean; 

no in between

without calibration of how much, 

and happy. it wasn't written specifically, 

so perhaps i was delirious over the rain. 

i had to feel free for the poem to take shape how it may. i could go along, no problem. was i allowing the falling waters to think for itself? this can't be what i was thinking. 

i have no idea what happened.

Clipping along

like a dog in a car
riding face first
hanging halfway out the window
what a highway we’re clipping along

on a ball sailing through space
throttle to the floor
don’t need a pedigree
any mutt can do it

this is big fun
i wanna do it often
my cheeks are flapping in the wind.

Hey, is anybody steering?

young and hidden

it's rabbits on my mind

when i'm looking out the 

window or outside walking.

 

how cautious they are

remaining out of sight.

 

a group of  rabbits is a fluffle

or a colony or a warren. 

ours live under a lily of the valley to keep hidden.

when they're three weeks old 

they'll disappear ... go live somewhere else.

we get used to rabbits around

then they're gone

without a sound.

We'll miss them.

note

 the unfortunate part

of not making note

is forgetting forever

what i never wrote

thank you so much a mouthful, i said

i thought i had a forever invisibility cloak.

mailman came and left.

for the first time he looked at me

and he waved at me. i usually wave into space.

 

that business complete, mailman come and gone,

i'll look in our box to see what advertisement 

someone paid to have delivered to my home. say, 

can you scoot over a half stool?  no ... the other way.

 

mail man is out of the picture for another day.

i'd say i am also.

both of our clocks 

can be wound tight again.