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