rain signals random messages

earlier a desperate deluge / then needling tattoos

now fingers drum a wearisome tune

I laugh to catch myself imagining everything

rain knows nothing

nor does the pigeon on the aerial

patient for the next shower of peanuts

I sometimes throw in vain attempt to feed the world

but it’s my guess this pigeon is thinking–

more / more will come / more —


stalwart pigeon

although laundry must be done

and the bedroom window has been open letting weather in

I too concentrate on what I wish were sure

let’s not disturb important reverie

let’s become emblems of

dependable patient observing

what I call too late and you call wait

is not clock marked / makes smoother sound than ticks on gears

this dim February morning / is all Februaries  

a brass-bowl we circle until it speaks

a universe of musical spheres / February turning