The Weather Man Poem by James McLain

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James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

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The Weather Man

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Circles of hills closed within, at the base
Of each hill flows white mist.
Dripping dew drops hang from green leaves,
Bushes found here are not topped.

Here in that room without any walls,
Empty spaces in your other place.
I can't hear the world inside of my head,
Everything's changed except me.

James McLain

Tuesday, October 22, 2019

Topic(s) of this poem: man,weather

poem poems empty green leaves

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See All Poems by James McLain

Next Poem

6275 / 5419

Previous Poem

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

James McLain

From Tampa Florida And Still Living Near By

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6275 / 5419

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