wet

after a drip of

morning tea

when everything is still,

everything...

i mean everything.

last night's rain

drips and drops

off each leaf and flower

audible inside

the blooms,

the house,

and inside

me.

from the eaves

and the window sills

it drops

bit by bit;

soggy magpies

sputter wet jabbers

old fir tree's roots

are waterlogged

and the worms' gasps

audible.

each drop a thought

e l o n g a t i n g . . .

until it's a thin line

the length of time

ticking and dripping

and each moment

within the line

is another

thought.

and then... and then...

the incense stick

completes.

originally published 30/06/2024

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