By Lorraine Caputo


During day’s predawn
darkness, the desert night mist
is heavier, a
thin rain gliding off these parched
tin roofs & sear dreams


In the midnight hour
a distant patter upon
the eaves disrupted
my meditation

Out to the terrace
I walked, to bathe in the light
rain falling upon
this desert city


3:30 a.m.
a rain begins to splatter
this other night … then

its rhythm rises
into a constant clatter
on the roof as I

begin to lay my
anger in blood ink upon
leaf after sear leaf

Lorraine Caputo is a documentary poet, translator and travel writer. Her works appear in over 250 journals on six continents; and 19 collections of poetry – including On Galápagos Shores (dancing girl press, 2019) and Escape to the Sea (Origami Poems Project, 2021). She also authors travel narratives, articles and guidebooks. Her writing has been honoured by the Parliamentary Poet Laureate of Canada (2011) and nominated for the Best of the Net. Caputo has done literary readings from Alaska to the Patagonia. She journeys through Latin America, listening to the voices of the pueblos and Earth. Follow her travels on Facebook or through her website.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s