Interstice

Not really a storm,
more like an interval
                       of rain.
Barely committed,
it pitter-patters light conversation,
idle chatter with the wind;
enough to open a floribunda
                       of umbrellas –
to make each of us
an island.  We dissolve
into our thoughts,
side stepping puddles,
oblivious of rainbows.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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 )

w

Connecting to %s