~ Poetry ~
. . .
4/2/00 – Daylight Savings Time
The sun set later today than yesterday
and I dream of rain, salty and sweet
permeating the dried earth, my parched skin,
like radiation after a firestorm,
sinking to the bone, eating dryness like
muscle and skin and blood,
making of the terrible sun a distant memory.
Night settles warm and soft in early spring
and I dream of rain, cold and gray
on a tongue too long soaked in sun and
too long distant from snow and ice and
wicked winds that suck the smoke from
strangers' fires and tease the darkness with
fairy sparks, fragments of life-giving flame.
Stars caress the sky like a lover's hand
and I dream of rain and the clouds that
obscure this blasphemy of a firmament in
deepest winter, a treasure chest securing
cosmic jewels, huddling them close
and tight, secrets on a lover's tongue;
mysterious and coveted and ultimately beautiful.
Day is longer now, driving vampyres underground
and I dream of rain watering them like
saplings, urging them to nurse sweet
red sustenance drawn from an oblivious world
that finds comfort in late sunsets,
complacency in false safety stolen away in
winter's early twilights and deep, haunted chill.
And tiny monsters dance on my tongue knowing
I dream of rain, hoping I can shelter them
from the vapid summer heat that makes them
rot as minds turn to more pleasant vistas
leaving ghouls and ghosts homeless for far too long,
yearning for their winter homes amid cobwebs
and pumpkins and deep, dark dreams of rain.
. . .