Monday, April 7, 2025

Raindrops fall like sand
in an hourglass, counting
down the moments ’til
the skies clear again.

Down here, our soles
stick as muck flicks
up our calves, splashed
with an unavoidable filth.

Up above some unseen
ceiling, though, the load
lightens, invisible. The light
must break sometime: wait.


love notes
a ritual to start the week

Christopher Shepard