396. Midday Lull

To eyes that lingered weakly
between the bounds of sleep and wake,
enclosed and all receptive
to allures of either worldly state:

From one a smile offered
with words of adoration,
that if consistent would withdraw
from the other world’s consideration;

But legacies are seldom built
from the ashes of affection,
with praise abundant to be found
in the achievements of the second;

And so the rain, and light, and night
took turns persuading eyes, enraptured,
yet none could really figured out
what sleepy eyes were after.

Sometimes, you write and have no idea where you would end up. Which is dream, and which is waking? I guess it’s not too different from the piece — what if I want both? Or is that just being greedy?


395. Downpour

A darkened sky crept toward us,
as masses of black grays descend,
replacing view that was just sunlit
with a torrent of cold rain —

Our day had up till then
been one of simmered tensions,
a heat no rain can quell
when held without a mention —

But water soon will soak us both
despite our silent tenor,
for what the rain may lack in words,
it makes up for in steady candor.

Watching a storm come in is quite exhilarating. A darkened sky from sunshine in literally minutes. Rain, coffee, some quiet space to contemplate: what more is needed on an introverted day?

394. Heat

What to make of summer nights
whose humid touch deny cool slumber,
and lasts not long before the light
disturbs what little sleep had further.

Yet comes the winter soon enough,
and likewise curses heaped on cold;
though we are slower to adapt, at least
the hearts’ complaints are malleable!

It’s rude to curse the heat too much. I’ve been able to sit outside and relax and write. I can walk and get coffee and not dread the snow-soaked shoes. Perspective.

393. Subplot

The sidecast held their stories
from the pages of the plot
that only eyes the most discerning
can see what we forgot —

Yet in all their normalcy
intersecting the main tale,
it’s harder to appreciate
what these characters hid so well.

But sometimes, the subplots make for better stories.

392. Foreshadows

Always know that you are choosing,
even in an idle choice that lasts,
or deciding deftly to defer until
summer’s intense heat has passed.

But fall will always follow promptly
from decisions of months prior,
and when the maple leaves shift hues,
will yours have made you wiser?

If choices were all easy, there wouldn’t be any need to appreciate them as learning lessons.

391. Spring Shades

The words arrived in flocks today
like birds returning on the breeze,
the herald of soft-drifting clouds
and the bloom of summer leaves —

And like all words or thoughts of you
frolicking under boundless light,
though lasting for but only moments
renew a hope we’ll someday reunite.

The weather is literally perfect. Coffee, leafy shades, a light breeze, and the occasional pockets of city-life silence. The potent brew for peaceful contemplation.


If you were doomed to second place,
the running lost before you started,
will you still proudly line and race
with nothing but your hardest?
Or would you rather fall to third,
a comfortable complacency?
Although copper pales to gold,
it lacks a tarnished jealousy.

So long as we don’t learn the wrong lessons anyways…whatever right and wrong may be in this case.

389. Noble

When days are done, do you gaze back
with tired longing of achievements,
then promptly settled neck to rest
and dream of their replacements?

When dawn arrives, do you awake
with clarity of an ordained vision,
the focused eyes alight with zeal
and heart imbued with mission?

Yes, I should. Yes, I do.

388. Comfort Zone

Deny your lies with eagerness
imposed by self-esteem,
for banal is plain wisdom
dispelling guarantees,
but in between two answers
will there often be a third —
there is a peace in chaos
of not knowing all your worth.

So then, should we tell a truth and tell it with a slant?

387. Conduit

Do borrow lavishly of drifting dreams,
they give freely their enchantments,
the gaudy gazes of the make-pretend
or love made madder still and incoherent.

Do give them in return your hands
inspired by a touch plus interest —
a world of dreams’ designs made real
begins with you as catalyst.

One of those that lacks imagery. I guess it’s hard to be imaginative when you’re normally asleep 2-3 hours ago…