Tap Tap Tap is the sound of lazy morning rains

Telling Time


We cannot tell the time
When the clouds are angry,
Or when the dusty rain of burning gas deflects wind.

We wade daily in the leaking lights
To find our huts since we
No longer count on the cold
Mornings in its constant haze
So we wait for the rain to make things
New, again.

Another precipitative morning, giving way to knocking childhood memories.