Downpour.

The lawn sat in water all day.

Ever since I broke my arm in the algae concrete river I walk like an old monk, gingerly, grasping fences and stucco walls. I think about teaching myself to navigate river rocks again, but maybe this time with a stick.

I wait. The pinball machines are gone. We are moving south for a clean slate, a new life, fine in the amnesia that something will begin, maybe the days will be sunnier. Less wind.

Two western bluebirds escape the downpour and rest beneath the eave of our roof. I watch them from the couch – the female preens, then tiredly tucks her head. The male keeps watch, his soft gaze on the clouds.

#poetry