Three fifteen a m.
My coffee
has grown tepid.

*

Mouse behind the wall,
obligation
claws and vexes.

*

March is grey,
unchangeably so
it would seem.
No hint of what's
about to be born.

*

Clouds massed thick.
Cheerless façade
of the Lindemann building.

*

What's the use
of being doctrinaire?
It's the supple soul
that wins the day.