routine

he drew in
           another breath
and opened his eyes

                   focused and imagined
         expecting to see rain
    falling on the shoreline
                     absorbed by
                                    the tree
                  until it reaches the wind
                  and forms another cloud

               all he found
                          was noise
          the sort of refinements
that keep life from being
                                  polite
            ideas about things
                                    shouting
        chasing each other
               refusing to be
the first to stop
           and take notice
     when they’ve reached
               the place where there
                                       is no sound