mostly empty places

it was spitting on 

the mostly empty, 

yearning, street 

that brooded 

in bruised shadows

and though,

leaves and litter 

danced about 

my feet, I shifted from 

my easy amble to 

a quickened pace … back

to the sanctuary of aloneness 

in great swishing crowds … for 

mostly empty places fill me 

with primal sparks of foreboding, 

that I douse with white noise 

and warm mnemonic wisps 

of soothing steam, from 

cups of red hot orange pekoe tea - 

sipped with cool aplomb

note:  posted for Poets United.

photo:  W. Pender in Vancouver – W. Bourke

© 2015 Wendy Bourke