rain snakes along window panes in tiny beating streams tap-tapping against the roof and walls while I read words on the page another steady flow-- “a note was sent to the warden begging his attendance…” I slip along this tale and dream, rain tap-tapping against window panes; outside, the sky shifts light, swinging a cloak across his shoulders in lofty unconcern.
From the author: For me, rain encourages the inward life. I solace myself with books, and recently, I began reading Anthony Trollope’s Barchester Towers series. A Victorian novelist, Trollope fashions stories differently than many contemporary authors. He reveals himself as the storyteller, adding witty asides like a host by the fireside in a long-ago drawing room.
Day after day, accompanied by the rain and such a charming host, I began writing Slipstream. My words, intertwined with Trollope’s, echoed the rain’s rhythm. The shifting clouds outside inspired the creation of an aristocratic sky. My poem was a synergy of past and present, Trollope’s world and my own. Like watercolors on a canvas, they blended into a new imaginary landscape. Here was the slipstream I experienced, an inspiration I appreciated on these cold and rainy days.