Thatch

Bukowsky’s rain was about money
All soggy but no bread at rain’s end
In van Gogh’s painted yellow light
And rainbow that held God’s smile
At which end , girls were not sure.

For seven days and seven nights
Our rain would go on a roof thatch
That held our young crows captive
Their black almost washed to gray
And the thatch looked a rice field
Sprouting last year’s left over rice.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s