Monday, June 3, 2013

gray day at the end of May

The air grows heavy
 with the threat of rain
Gulls cruise over
 the still-dry asphalt
In search of the sea,
Grateful for the handouts
The kids cast
Leftover hamburger buns
From the local burger stop,
The gray sky
Casting a gloom over the world
With only streaks of light
To remind me the sun still exists
Nobody else notices
In their Saturday shopping sojourn
Too busy with bags
To worry over the tornadoes
Forecasters claim are
On their way,
This place and ritual
So engrained in my life
I even imagine it in my dreams,
Keeping me focused
When all else fails,
So that when the rain comes
It paints me
With the same pale brush
As it does the sky,
Softening the hard edges
Always protruding from

The ends of the world

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