with the sound of the rain
on the canopy above and on the pond
sometimes even better than
any music
the sound is desperately
trying to pull me out
the mud where I get stuck
can’t move so much as to stand
as far as thoughts understandable
some mostly off the wall
in the basement where I find myself
over again always wanting
to go home then a flash memory
my grandfather watching the Red Sox
play ball Sunday afternoon east side
shoe city black and white television
distracted by technology
the sound of the rain in the grass
brings me back to center
the thought and the purpose of it all…
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