I am not a poker player,
don't have the face for it . . .
or the memory.

I can gaze off in the distance though,
no matter how close it be.

Rain on leaves at night is a sacred sound.
When I am weary or I cannot find the words,
it becomes a prayer for me.

I was a runner back when commas still mattered,
and you could come back to find your prepositions
where you dropped them.

I am a walker now, knees be damned.
These are the days of second chances,
hours of nights,

rain on leaves.