Clouds rolling in fast and full
like cows urgent for the barn
and the hands of release
tugging, pulling, granting
warm utter relief.
The tinny music of the stream
against the bottom of the tin pail
filling up and changing pitch
as the cats sing along in desire
and preen in anticipation.
against the tin roof of the barn
gleaming in the deluge of release
and I snuggle in the straw warm,
nestled against my doggie musky wet
and groaning content in her doggie-dreams.
I close my eyes and listen for simple things:
I look inside my heart and hear the sound of an empty bookstore,
tinny music floating tentative round the stacks
and my feet quiet kitty feet scurrying twixt
tall towers of treasure, those leafy time machines.I succumb to the incense of barn and cow and rain
mingled together under the hovering close grey clouds
so flocculant and soft around the edges (my heart, my heart)
and drift away on that raindrop-rapping raft of sound
while the purring cats stand guard with slitted happy eyes.
I dream of sitting on the back stoop at Grandma’s house,
listening to her twangy voice flat as West Texas
singing of sheaves and rejoicing and heaven’s starry shores.
I keep time with the potato peeler and peek inside to see her smile
and I think that I would like to never wake up
but just stay…right here…in the midst
of all these towering small joys.