A lonesome twister
lifts blossoms into the air
then ceases to be
≈
Early morning grey,
the world without human sound—
the birds don’t miss it
≈
The usual rain
but the playing field’s grass is
taller than ever
≈
Winter’s given up
letting the sun have its way,
warming empty streets
≈
The air may be clear
but this evening’s sunset has
little to work with
≈
No one to stop for,
the empty train displaces
blossoms from the track
≈
The dark clouds arrived
but the fierce predicted rains
barely wet the grass
≈
Though no one can come,
the church bells ring and ring and
ring and ring and ring
≈
A surprise meeting
so much to say—a single
word will have to do
