Monday, October 15, 2007

A poem for the week

Cold Rain

The rain is about to turn to snow
or sleet
or freezing rain
or maybe stop altogether while it makes up its mind
what it will become
where it will go next

We are between the mountains and the sea
between cloud and fog
between seasons

Somewhere kids are playing stickball
in a noisy street
or soccer
on a dry and dusty field

Somewhere men cut cane in the heat;
women lie on a sun-splashed beach

We, perched on the edge of the continent,
look out on the misty uncertainty
and wait


Jim Haas

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