so many rainclouds

i see you bowing, figures in the mist; wordless
lullabies, wordless, timeless

(don’t remember when you first heard).

i see you leaving, figures in the mist


– remembrancers –

nothing’s real quite like
the books you’re carrying, figures in the mist,
eyes raindrops and the weather doesn’t match our mood

(there’s nothing we can do).



crescendo.



the faun and the full moon,
the figures in the mist,
today’s not human;

i no longer follow that moon,
i am no disciple of the tides and my feet are not quite on the ground,
all saints, carefully.
buck teeth, all saints
(she’s named after a church)

sing the wordless lullaby i’m no longer on the ground,
remembrancers my seers of the past
[look back instead of forward, the woven
ground of history so unlike flickers of
every future]

but no more do my figures dance in the mist,

so many rainclouds

softly.