There are no stars tonight.
We see only clouds and
hear the storm gathering
on the edge of town like
bandits in a Western.
There are no stars tonight,
so we say, waiting for rain,
listening to the thunder,
cosmic talking drummers
telling an old, old story.
There are no stars tonight,
but there will be stars –
stars outshine storms;
light beats clouds every time:
paper, rock, scissors.
Peace,
Milton
I love “cosmic talking drummers” and THIS is a blog I’ll visit again.
Love the poem, Milton.
I don’t know if you’ll remember me, but I met you at John Brashier’s writer’s conference in Jackson, MS. I’m the one who told you how I love the “what makes the great ones anyway” line from Sammy and Mark.
I’ve enjoyed following your blog. I finally got one up and going myself, I’ve only put a few posts up so far, but come over and check it out sometime at poetenough.wordpress.com
Shaye
I’m so moved by this. Thank you.
an outcast and a stranger