untitled | today

it’s raining today

not so new

’tis different

because today

I am home

we get to laugh

and count the drops

to think of untitled

poetry of days gone by

taking up space

in the now

wasting the present

with wet memories

too soaked to dry

themselves

wrapping ourselves

in blankets of bad news

the tv squawks

a war machine filled

with harlequins and puppeteers

pulling strings

said it would be sunny

and yet—I

often wondered

how they knew

the future

and how wrong

they often are—when it matters most

 

it rained today

where the present

observed the past

hoping for spring

 

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