late night smokes in the rain, thoughts from a long-loathed front porch.

from early october 2008


[chirps of insects match twitching leaves.
the wind whistles.
headlights flicker and emerge,
then pass...
this is now your night,
learn to love it.]





i feel the mental anguish of a tiny water droplet,
lying atop a gentle green leaf
after a harsh night's rain.

i roared through the sky with fleeting passion
amongst others so inclined,
yet now i tremble alone in the breeze.
not a tremble of fear,
perhaps impatience.
bursting with latent thought and energy,
trapped by the presence of a seemingly uncontrollable force

i can only hope for a confident wind
or the bending of my stem
to send me to the edge,
plunging me down into the salvation of the unknown
before i evaporate.

for now, i cling.

the proper moment will present itself
and this is all a part of the plan