Wednesday, June 4, 2014



Fingertips of rain at my back
I keep walking into dry air

I pretend I am bringing the rain
as my cape

The gray building I walk past
is perfect and smooth Buttery

Last year what a disaster
this place was

The bedraggled skeleton
building wished very hard
every day until it got to become
a real place

Now there’s no telling it to relax


  1. is it now full or filled with life? now i'm curious, mi amiga

  2. Hannah, Still a grateful reader, though a quiet one these days! Coming out of quiet to say the first two stanzas are especially lovely--rain as your cape, and you walking into dry air. So many images of such depth-filled beauty in your poems. Thank you.


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