Then There Are the Birds Who Love the Rain

I am one of these
Half in love with now
Open like a flower
A flower that walks
And though I want to ask
If you understand
I think this slow walk
Under rain soaked
Apple trees is enough
Just so, feathers wet
Green, cold,
In a dark perfect circle.

Author: stevekuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University View all posts by stevekuusisto