On the Balcony

The villians vanish in the dusk
of Two Creeks Natural Area,
inciting howls from every neighborhood hound.
A cloud ship sails in on the horizon,
infused with angry beauty and menace.
Moisture, light, particles,
capture the color of a wound.

Suspended fifteen feet above the earth,
in a ten by eight foot square of concrete, metal and wood,
I wait for the magic to happen:
for the wall of water to fall.

The concrete cool beneath my feet now,
a still, clean wetness in the air
and we are on the edge---
of an explosion.
I hang my arm over the ledge, Eew! I felt one!
Then two, then three, then four,
then drops everywhere!
Splattering against the pavement,
cleaning the trees and feeding the grass.

Moths dry their wings above me,
finding warmth and shelter
near the heat of the lamp post.
Wings of every pattern and color
beating to stay afloat, to avoid the jaws
of Lucy, paws poised to leap,
tail flicking in anticipation,
eyes glowing with the hunt.

The world pervades her soft gray fur,
the color and smell of the rain
falling without fluctuation now,
coursing through the creek and inciting the glo-worms:
townsfolk in yellow raincoats and head lamps bobbing,
hanging their arms over the bridge,
level nearly tangible to the fingertips.

And so it goes with Garett grabbing the acoustic,
making tangible with fingertips Child of the Moon
and I grasping the pages of Ladder's to Fire,
dreaming of Lillian and Djuna outside a Parisian cafe,
sipping coffee and watching the rain fall.