The Silent Hour

I have been up reading

for hours, maybe.

I find myself awake
at a time
that is considered
neither early morning
nor late night,

but merely
the time
of hollow stillness
and giant
clock sounds.

I look up from my book

and from the window
see rain-
like paint drippings;
turning the grey asphalt

I also, am in the midst
of a rain;
a time
when the ground chokes
with everything
it has been needing.

I need
living water.

I need
a cup
that overflows.

I need
this rain

to pour down
and drown
what needs drowning.


  1. I am amazed at how much you can draw out of such simplicity.

    When are you going to publish a collection?

  2. Comments like those keep me writing. Thank you.

    In answer to your question--I would love publish a small collection one day. We'll see. Probably when I am about 60 and have at least 15 poems I can be proud of.