A couple of days ago I received a letter informing me that I had won second place in an international writing contest for a piece I had submitted several months before. It was 'They save the worst for last at ol' dogwood', a piece that I posted in february. It is funny though, because I won second place in that same contest last year. That time I won 2nd for the following poem.
Rain
There is a rustle in the tall grass as the wind goes sweeping through
As the last of the sunset fades away
The blanket of clouds comes anew
The night is cold
But it is dulled
For hear, here comes the rain
It is like the whisper of voices talking of choices unmade
For hear, here comes the rain
It is like the pattering of feet softly treading
For hear, here comes the rain
It is like the battering of all the crows’ wings
For hear, here comes the rain
Then, all was still
