Monday, August 8, 2011

the sighing rain

i am filled with secrets ...
in one small corner of my world
there sits an apothecarist's cupboard
whose tiny compartments
are filled
with admixtures
of dreams still sleeping
desires let fade
humbled hopes
wishes waiting to be released

each is filmed
with a soft fine dust
that rises in tiny spore-like clouds
when i reach in with questing fingers
seeding the moment
with unimagineable multiplicities


hear the sighing rain.
i whisper a secret, to reach
all the way in there.

tomas tranströmer


ellen abbott said...

I liked this a lot.

The Weaver of Grass said...

I think that poem aptly describes the inside of my head, Steven.

Linda Sue said...

Whoa DUDE! This caught me off guard- shroom flashback!