Close the Ring of Ruin The Sunday Whirl #147

We sing,
sometimes when the porch rains reasons
of hummingbird cinnamon kisses
in velvet symmetrical crumble.

No air in bottles,
rainstorms are hard
but these few
expert thoughts
sing,
humming caught by some,
minor and invisible.

Softly, we remember life,
and me, all weather still pretending.
I’m the thunder-waterfall striking
lightning couples,
waiting and listening.

Rain,
calm down;
the days know flow of
downhill roll – ghost,
typing, reverberating empty
today.