My thoughts are more like

scattering of leaves:

child’s boot kicking about

a once-raked pile

swept away the next day.

(Some linger the winter

to rot into the ground)

Sometimes I catch a thought in my mouth

like a fluffy flake of snow and it melts away

on my tongue, too quick

to be savored.

Other times I sink my teeth in

like a dog enamored with meat

and yes sometimes

I too forget to chew.

My thoughts are like dense rain clouds —

Wait.

No.

My thoughts are like falling rain

splashing and diagonal

creating puddles big enough

for us — I mean, me —

to sink or swim.