Sunday morning rain fall, down in misty
torrents, wind ripping shapes of itself
across hundreds of jutting ramshackle roofs
like an uneven jaw. Rust wire jaw. Who
knows what really holds it all together.
Ferrets tumbled around their makeshift cage
this morning, also rumbled playfully last
night around 1:15 AM. Playful noisy movement
while across our vast living room
cluttered down in cozy couches and
a couple of easy chairs, was the sleeping
form of my son breathing evenly in deep
sleep, the ferret noise not bothering him
one bit as he lay back languidly in his
play pen like a king. Who says kings never
sleep - just before St. Crispin's day
mayhaps. Enemy troops botched up in
the mud of my baby son’s deepest dreams,
clouds of arrows zipwhip the
sky.
My sons Lowen and Jesse in the family
room light of day now close to noon.
My oldest boy Max reluctantly washing
dishes in the kitchen. My wife and step
daughter Zoey, off to the store as some
kids program yammers endlessly over
the moon eyed hypno-gaze of my boys.
The wind waits to blow, now a break in a
series of storms supposedly coming our
way. And a small break at that, no real
sunshine but the day is still young, will
be before twilight springboards all into
dark
soft human
shoulders of
sleep.
- - - - - - - - - - -
(May 11th, 2014)
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