RAIN IN WINTER
-
John
Eppel (South Africa)
I
watch you watching the winter rain
of
gold-tipped jacaranda leaves.
You
wonder: will they clog the drain,
block
the conduit pipe again?
Picking
leaf-drops from my sleeves.
Your
face is turned aslant from mine,
I
cannot read your moving lips
but
trace the enigmatic line
that
demarcates your features fine
with
my mind’s fingertips.
You
will not, now, return my stare
(too
late, too late, the hornbill cries),
flicking
leaflets from my hair,
each
flick a gesture of despair -
rain of
winter in your eyes.
****