The World Must Rest Too. It Is Old

~ a poem for my two worlds, for now ~

LeandroDeCarvalho Pixabay

Between me and the world

are distances

I have measured in half-glimpses,

as though a full look

might erase the world in a blink.

If the table were not in the way

I might make it to the curtain.

If I do

the curtain is in the way.

My window has wavy panes

which rinse the world

in mellow rainbows

and make it a kinder place

than when I left it.

The world must rest too. It is old…

I know trees

I know rain

like sheets of liquid steel,

food for hatchling seeds.

Beyond are lonesome roads

purpled by clouds of green leaves.

Mongrels yawn, beggars

fight hunger with delusions.

Somewhere far

is a desert

is an ocean

is open water

fishes leap and glint