Tuesday, July 22, 2008

About Hidden Things

It's the way you could no longer
hear the train on its rails
in the far off of the night
and the rain, it's the way
the rain sounded on that roof,
cooling summer.
It's the book you'd start again
each time, 'til you'd sleep.
It's the way you could sleep.
It's the way rusted iron
and old boards hid things.
It's about hidden things,
I'm pretty sure, and the way
you wanted to show somebody
the bright thing you found,
the way you were sure you could
fix it up and make it work again
and the way you thought you might.
it may be about hearing another train
at first light.
- Ralph Murre


Anonymous said...

I come back and read this one three times. This time I picked up on the flow of raindrops down the page. There are so many layers and images! I am very impressed.

The Mad Dog said...

Ah, how the soul bleeds so beautiful.

-The Mad Celt
"The Musings of a Mad Celt"

"Arem Arvison Log" has been added to my blog.

White Rose said...

This is so beautiful! I love the child like optimism that runs through the piece. The delight found in such simple things.