Suppose the rain treated us

As philosophers do—

Fingering skulls with sure duration

And knowing our time is brief

Sweetly steers attention away from dying?

Minturno of spring storm;

Proclus of fog skimming the fields;

Didn’t we talk to one another about seeing?

Oh yes, rain is the art of dying:

Men fear rain who do not shut their eyes.


Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

Leave a Reply

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

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

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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

%d bloggers like this: