Sills and distances

Sitting on a window sill, old boots on a ledge next to him drying

Rain tumbling down across an awning out in front before his eyes

Rivers rushing inside each groove painting rainbows amongst city lights

As he drops to the pavement a dozen feet below from where he sat silent

To find a way swirling in sounds as a torrent bends its way around

Different street furniture, secured, bolted, concreted fast to stand strong

No matter the multiple challenges granted by gravity to velocity’s bet

On downhill terrain, a morphed transportation system, a kayak

Jammed against a park bench on the other-side, its paddle wedged

Inside, just waiting to be set free should one dare to cross perhaps

Leave this flood behind, run through the water’s rush to find the sea

Rescue, shallow launch, race upon rising inner city traversing flood waters

Close ones eyes in these tumbling rain drops, down along such empty streets

While dance and music begin to fill each passing balcony, no longer adrift

Racing, racing in the fallen rain, racing to reach the distant wild wind’s sea.

4 responses to “Sills and distances

  1. To me, this poem of yours described a feeling I can’t name but I experience often, regarding runing to the sea, questioning, courting movement, runing. My favourite part:”Leave this flood behind, run through the water’s rush to find the sea

    Rescue, shallow launch, race upon rising inner city traversing flood waters

    Close ones eyes in these tumbling rain drops, down along such empty streets”

    • It’s what a flood’s like while having a conversation when your mind is some where else, other than locked away safely inside a building where the body sits. Walking where the rising waters run (for me any way).

  2. “Close ones eyes in these tumbling rain drops, down along such empty streets”.

    “Racing, racing in the fallen rain, racing to reach the distant wild wind’s sea”.

    Those ones are perfect verses, indeed… ⭐
    Thanks for sharing Sean. Best wishes to you. Aquileana 😀

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