Photo taken of Brendan Behan painting, Dublin pub

The cold, hard rain:
the wind,
the leafless trees,
the puddles turned
to pools,
the sound of it
beating
off
the
gutter:
the muted green
and brown,
the tail lights,
stop lights,
Christmas
lights
the only light
that keeps us going,
this time
of year.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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