Writing on a Cloudy Morning

Clouds approach.
Clouds approach.

“Below, I hear tires crushing gravel

And everything again is still.

A strange echo haunts me as I compose:

A woman sobbing.

Does she know this man?

This man who gazes upon the stars?

Could she be the one

Who left him so long ago?

Who hears my words as I

Leak them onto the page, slowly,

Drop by drop,

Seeping through the concrete floors

That separate us?

Silence befalls again.

Nothing in the air

But the silent sighing

Of the clouds,

For they know they are blocking

The eternal blue sky

Which is a little bluer today,

While down here

On the vast expanse,

It has become…

Do you hear the stillness,

My friend?

That stillness is where

Your laughter lived.”

Composed 08/03/2013

Author’s Note: I wrote this on a rather dreary morning after receiving bad news. Usually, Mongolia has an abundance of sunlight, especially in winter. Sometimes these cloudy days can be quite a drag.


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