I have my say, though my fear is that I constantly repeat myself; very much the way a crow calls the same thing endlessly, but it all has different meanings to the crow. I would offer a code key to my readers if I could lay my hands on one. My mind whispers that the soothing people get from my work is like the calm induced by chanting monks. Possibly it is more the actor’s trick of reading repetitive lines each time putting the emphasis on a different word; a way of squeezing all the juice from nonsense. I jot ideas swearing these lines are to be found somewhere in my previous work, perhaps whole pages are redundant. Finally I stop this fight reminding myself I have but one voice and what I accuse myself of as similarity might merely be my style.
Find satisfaction in the middle, too
I roll down the window in the rain
Hoping reality will soak in with the droplets
I tilt my face as I leave the car
And let the water shower my features.
The downpour is the jolt to living for which I have prayed
I stand on my lawn and rinse the day out of my hair
I clear my brain in the fresh rainwater.
The driving rain pounds the house and trees
But I feel massaged and cared for
My skin reflexive, teaches my mind to absorb and hydrate
I turn my thoughts to Greater Powers.
Even if the doors have been closed
I can open the windows
And let the rain come in.