Water dripped and tapped a window pane
the opaque look of a morning blue.
Sitting now in front of a fire crackle,
imagining just how short a life we lead.
I drew myself closer to the glass
that sheltered me from the damp.
I wondered about those that might
spend their night chilled, and wet and sad.
The rain would continue through evening,
and I would watch the night envelop my dawn.
There is a crystal ball lays inside a lull,
a rainstorm lets us breathe and feel,
so in the rains one day when we wake,
we find some quiet solace in its wake.
© Thom Amundsen 3/2022
A Theatre Website 