Twelve.

12

Its easier to write on a rainy day. Is that intuitive? 

Should one already know that? Is one remiss 

if one misses? Quiet seems to be at right angles 

to thought on days like this. The occasional

passing of tires on a wet road is almost hypnotic 

in its soft rhythms. Air, flows in tandem, chasing

them down the street. The reverb trapped

in this room appeals to movement for the sound 

of my fingers upon keys. There is water being 

placed in the kettle through a doorway to the kitchen 

over there. There is a dog at my feet in the living room 

over here. And as I listen to the sound of my heart 

thrumming through a wardrobe of words I find 

it is easier to write on a rainy day.

 

Markle~

28September2020