Waking to obvious rain. Like bright
-hued children the construction men
wait, dwarfed by and dampened at
the site’s abyss. Something might
be wrong, now, they collect
and gather, staring down. Conjecture:
a short but unknowable distance.
A gull’s nervous warble, unseen.
The stillness of the ginkgo tree.
No wind. Someday it will grow
to shade this view, to blatantly
obscure, not by illusory degrees—
I know what is unknowable,
sometimes. All this slanting rain.
A worker picks at a clogged drain
as it floods, so the water keeps running on.
OPTIONAL POETRY 
I seriously can’t find anything negative to say about this.
Great stuff!
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Thanks!
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Reading your poems really make me take a step back and clear my mind and think. Thanks for these moments!
– Brittany
http://kairosmom.com
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Thanks for reading them, Brittany!
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Funny how feelings can find articulation in the remotest of places. Beautiful piece!
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Thank you!
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Beautiful flow! Its so rhythmic – like rain.
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Thanks, Claire!
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