analyticstracking
Poetry

Rain-walking

I retreat to the dark, wet streets
threading the city.
Parked cars hunch like bent knees;
rain falls in soft,
straight lines. 
These damp nights- spring grazes in
with one sweetness
after another;
the beckoning of flowers,
black, whole smell
of earth.
When I stretch my arms I extend
beyond my limits
into another season.