tuesday: a lesson in searching

Soft grey rain fell today, cushioned and mellow, like goosefeathers dripping 

from the v-shaped migrants now frequenting above. Watch them catch 

a southern escape, locating some eternal blonde heaven away from here. 

The way people talk of lakes like going home and mountains 

as memory, the rain is mine alone to claim, so i do 

with my stubborn green laughing voice. Today’s cloudburst had a hunter lip, 

a juniper kiss across an ocean. I stake it to me, softness and greyness, 

I unearth her secret resting places, surer than geese 

finding tomorrow’s heat. Stronger than ancient sharks sniffing out blood.