Now

Muffled twilight of a too early dusk cradles me

In my perambulations

Under a sharply pelting tropical express

Condensation of half the Pacific unleashed

This island being a tripwire to the continent

 

Broad black brim of the stetson

Provides the most immediate drumskin

Percussive patterns tiptap across each sodden view

Backbeating drops splash waxgreened arbutus leaves

Moss modulates the rocky snare

 

As I stare

 

And stare

 

Into the darkening distance

Hardly seeing the lights

 

Pondering

To the rhythm of rain’s ratatatat

This point of singularity

This now

 

Nowness

 

Immediacy in the moment

 

Now

Alone

Now

Alone

Now

 

David Trudel   ©  2012

 

 

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2 Comments

Filed under Poetry

2 responses to “Now

  1. Love the rhythm in this, David. The images are beautiful too; with that lonely close quite poignant, as well.

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