we are the leaves of autumns fall clouds watch over us with breezes shredding softly the passing of summer its more than words on paper as the voice within steps aside the unfamiliar and familiar while time and gravity bend the shadows we are haunted by
rainy city gray on gray black streets clouds pressed low shoulders in the mist each puddle a fluid fingerprint reflecting jagged photos of windowed people and overbearing buildings
one a great force the other invisible both unrestrained resistant to change regardless of seasons constant as gravity seconds move the hands clouds possess miracles comfort eases the pain of the weakness we fail to overcome to change either one lest the gift of each be wasted
it was at the edge of horizons where eyes welcome a steady line of waves touching the senses, dripping from clouds hiding in shadows evenings and nights and familiar songs the years are unstoppable, a collection words, drifting in breezes but not forgotten
a back stairway beyond stars and night clouds cracked stone steps rise to a stained faded door half screen the other part wood singing with rust when opening and failing to close when shut gazing up the ascending stairs there’s a light at the end of a twisted cord swinging like a dead … More SINGLE LIGHT
mercurial breezes stirred the ponds surface creating a water print with soft twisting sounds of irregular disruption forming ripples without direction soon breaking apart returning the surface to smooth glass, reflecting late afternoon clouds
cloud swells, mist like gauze floating, shades of unknown grays, long weather in a disturbed sky obstructs the horizon birds angle a quick path, people long step to shelter in the air becomes a quiet numbness the evidence of change begins, with a single drop of rain
shapeless descending rain onto the skin running the vines of the outstretched hands as welcoming drops drift into random paths directed by gravity and unevenness finally released to the ground, the willing undertaker of the falling from heaven
I sense a stranger a cloud without a name half light the other gray no voice to introduce the spirit without a smile, coat, or hat as it enters my thoughts like a midnight diner person, sure footed, a table in sight, back to the corner watching for misplaced stragglers, loners and those wanting … More MINDFUL VISITOR
that’s the cloud holding my dreams, I know the shape I recognize it often possessing my words within its corners and folds, desperate emotions, wounds, joyful expressions, the in between, and prayers for voices no longer with us, gone to rest as I stand under the cloud I trusted, a witness reminding me to keep … More REMINDING ME
Roger Singer 