In Rain-Light Morning

In rain-light morning,
sitting with all that’s inside me
before day’s rush-time steals away
all my intentions, I come to conclusions

and thus also to beginnings.

Some conclusions are best seen
as escapes from
a grudging obligation to care
about what has passed,
about closing books upon
now-spoiled, once well-ripened

it dawns upon me also
that beginnings
are often about noticing
those small bumps,
swellings on blooms
on fruit trees, that promise
eventual nourishment
if cared for well enough;

sitting now in rain-light morning,
in fall, long before such beginnings
become obvious again, in a season
of fallen leaf and fruit and emptied
gardens now littered with remains
of past harvest and growth;

sitting here knowing
this moment of clarity will pass
and never ripen, but also knowing
that another will come and pass again;

knowing that one day
I shall be able to conclude
that in each conclusion
is the next beginning,
that ripeness is always at hand,
is in my eyes, is always there
in my choosing.


About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

Comments are disabled.

%d bloggers like this: