How Restful Is the Rain
How restful is the rain
a soft hushing sound
that brings me awake
to soft grey morning.
I’m quick to smile
close my eyes again
and cherish this gift
of sound for my soul
The ebb and rush of
storm, a gentle tattoo
becomes an insistent
tapping pulse of drops
They wash over roof
clattering in gutters
bringing new sounds
to my drowsy mind
The water, I envision
It washes over roof tiles
through cracks to drip
on me upon my bed
It floods the floorboards
lifts the linens and
gently swirls me away
adrift on time’s current
I imagine opening eyes
to stare upward
leaves and branches
passing by to clouds
I spin like a leaf and turn
pelted and washed clean
water below buoying me
upward to receive this gift
How restful is the rain
9/18/18
a fast write - some editing on the fly, but no real agonizing analysis of form or meter or rhyme - just flow of consciousness and imagery
NOTE: This is a new write ! Can it be that my drought is coming to an end ? I have hoped for a new burst of words, but it's been hard. So hard. This fast write is meant for a voice, I think. A soft whispering voice that is slow to read and that pauses over the lines and paces them like a slow reverie unfolding.
