October rain shimmers down,
plunges into caves
shatters the crusts and beggars
of impoverished gates
and seeps into main forages
filling the cracks of middle aged fresco
with few ephemeral molecules
of combing light before proceeding into
the constrictor's spine
and drying out momentarily
in the left overs of a
November awakening.
Bera Tremoz
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/changes-8/