When It Rains On The Month Of July Poem by RIC BASTASA

the world if you see it
in the garden, in its simplified forms
of leaves
wet with rain
of birds resting below them
of waters running from the gutter
and spurting
like a vomit of the past
and the surging of the rain
like the memories
like the ramblings of the day

if you only see the world
when you stop
and put your fist on your chin
when you sit
alone on an old ancestral chair
and simply be silent like
a rug on the door

away from the dog
and the wagging tails and the
cats and the noisy scratches on the walls

if you only begin to see the world
you will know that it is sad you will know further
that it is more
beautiful

that way.