Silver Shadows Poem by Judith Vriesema

you
always arrive from rain soaked conversations that fill entire spaces with nouns and consonants;
each sentence carrying the flight of a swallow while
autumn leaves chase an afternoon rain that streams down rooftops unto carpets of brightly coloured leaves.
Renoir's muted palette is more subdued as silver raindrops find their way through a reflection in a window that is held by a single strand from a spider's web.
Light follows a september sequence ebbing and flowing across glass that stretches and changes through pearl like shadows where life goes on in its own symphony.
Puddles reflect a late afternoon storm in teakettles from across the sea while the smell of coffee haunts cafes now closed for the season.
The swallow becomes the seagull flying toward a point of beginning,
and waves chase long lost leaves that fly toward a place called home where light chases the threads of the rain,
and echoes of conversation fill entire spaces of sound;
walls ever so gently blown away like autumn leaves running toward a reflected sky;
the summer sky giving birth to an autumn rain.