Return (June 1991)
I
I awake at 9 a.m. to the sound of the rain
and can't get back to sleep again.
So I sit on the porch and watch the puddles
form,
watch the black bird bathing in the rain.
Some would call this a portent;
Blackbird, grey cloud, chill teasing rain...
But I know better than to look at the future
like that.
I don't look at it at all.
I have this day to listen to the rain
as it cleanses my world
washes it clean again.
~~~~~~~~~~
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II
Later on that day I find you blowing bubbles.
Like the bubbles in puddles I know that they
are good.
They float away with the clouds, just
wandering,
No place particular to go. And I can go too.
You say you find four-leaf clovers as we walk
you home.
You share your luck. It comes off in your
hand.
And in your lips
I feel myself going with the bubbles and the
clouds
and returning with the rain.
~~~~~~~~~~
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III
Soldiers have been coming home for days.
Students are returning their books.
Much knowledge passes through these walls.
Many deaths for dollars have kissed this year.
But I can only die to myself time and again.
Today I only live to hear the music play,
to feel the wind and the rain coming down
to explore the world
within
whatever makes us
who we are
you and I
and wherever we can go...
~~~~~~~~~~
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IV
I have no fear of darkness
of lightning and of rain.
Although the storm is violent
all becomes clean again.
~~~~~~~~~~
copyright1991anthonybaldwin
written June 1991, Purdue University-West
Lafayette, IN)
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