111

I woke up at about six
And then again at six thirty.
Something brought me out of
Bed and onto the upstairs
Landing, and to the window.
There was rain coming off
The pines, and the air was
Full of its slow fall. Down
At the end of the yard near
The trees a puddle formed
In the dogeared grass was
Dancing with it continually.
The morning was dull and
Milky white, close with mist.
Ten yards from the porch was
A sun lounger and an old
Beach parasol, sodden, its
Red and yellow and white all
But faded like an abandoned
Circus tent. Somebody was
Down there, sitting in the sun
Lounger. I could see only
The outline of a figure, white,
Slumped as if unconscious.
It occurred to me it was this
Presence that had brought
Me from sleep, to the window.

I stood there looking at the
Rain and the slumped figure,
And then I went downstairs.