ruminations on rain 12.19.25

the window is ajar

it almost sounds like white noise

keeping me awake

the garbage smell washed

away along with my plans

for later and my

boots everyone wore five years

ago we all end up washed

hard gear rendered soft

just to turn hard the next day

brittle to the touch

all at once and stop

then even more to be frank

that's relatable

it's grey and cold here

as if the sky were about

to burst and erupt

i know you hate the grey but

it reminds me of your eyes