Rain again; all night
wind blew the drops
against my window,
as I tossed from desire

to regret, pacing
my mind's frontiers;
searching for what?
Soon I'll be elsewhere,

thinking other thoughts;
thinking how I miss
yesterday's trouble
& dreams. Backwards

isn't an option.
Trees don't wither
into their roots.
They push upward

until, at last,
the rot gets them
or a storm breaks them
...maybe ages on.