Toward Castro

Succeeding weeks of rain, the air’s so clean
it slaps my cheeks and soothing coats my throat.
I’m walking to the Metro, and the scene
is gentle as a promenade. I float
on foot through color, like an antidote
to mudslides, teeming gutters, trees that could
no longer clutch the liquid earth. I note
no threat or peril in this neighborhood.

(Huitain)

This entry was posted in Neighborhood, Poetry, Weather and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s