Second Thoughts

She sits with legs extended on a reclining chair
Enveloped in a swarm of them
They hover about her seemingly mindless
An index through her brow though
And the thick, silver-grey one
A thunder cloud
Vacates the space above her temple
Where it gingerly lingered before
A dozen white-cotton puffs now swirl
In fanciful fairy fashion
She smiles
The crease on her brow has vanished
The wind picks up a trail of fresh ones
Daring thoughts that challenge her
That she daren’t shape into words
But as the window slams shut they crash head on
They leave
A damp mushrooming shape
On the glass pane
Which heat sucks into nothingness
So they are discarded, lost
Quickly forgotten
Like the rushed, minute intake of breath following a sigh
She smiles
The crease on her brow has vanished

Vobarno, Brescia, Lombardia
August 21, 2011