Somewhere in Southern Indiana

(C) R.L.K.

Rain banging away at the depot roof,
Weary wanderers watching the window
For the first hint of headlights;
It's midnight and it matters little
Where anyone is going as long as the train
Will cut the distance down to a size
That even the loneliest traveler,
Now playing one more sad song
On the harmonica, can live with.

October Morning

(C) R.L.K.      


after the storm
    tattered
              clouds drift
  over an empty field --

     so the day
        begins:
chilly & wind-
  swept,      yet

beside a
  rickety fence
         a stray sunbeam
gilds a puddle of rain