Poetry

Care of Rain- Musings from my window gazings

Ravens on a high wire, glimmer of sun through mist, my hand cold against the glass.

Summer a distant memory, days grow short and blur together.

Plates of bright metal undulate loudly not so far away, protruding beneath a towering white needle – a Goliath,

Both equally awkward and out of place among dull concrete dwarfs of uniform height.

The rooftops are a mishmash of multi-brown tiles rimmed in bright green moss that thrives under the now wet sky.

Would that I could fly like the ravens, dark and stealth, feeding on carrion their actions are darker still,

Dark as my thoughts in winter I would dare,

To light a fire and warm my bones, yet still I remain cold to the touch.

Sleep is not forthcoming even as the city lights twinkle and die down, one and then another.

The ravens they remain – I can sense them now more than ever, their darkness carry-on in my dreams

I am afraid.

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About Jean C Wong

I am a world traveler, writer, photographer, and teacher. I've lived all over the world and speak 5 languages.

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