Skip to main content

Rainy Days

God has come and the rain has fallen…

We pray for sun – forgetting the
Kisses of life giving, comforting rain
Chilling bodies but not souls
Nor the earth beneath our feet
Granting us all these enchantments

A whispering rain off the ocean water tells
Secrets we've long forgotten

The playful gray-black splotched seal
Has not forgotten – their faces popping
Above the churning green surface as a
Toddler that's just begun to walk
Pulling their full soft faces over ledges
Just to high for a giddy blissful gander

The graceful but awkward Cormorant has
Not forgotten, as it glides itself above
The rolling swells – settling in on its
Floating ocean home
Free, Graceful, Home

Gray Cobble stones roll and whisper
With the rain and waves
Unthinking but remembering in a way
A thousand stories could they tell of
Rainy days long forgotten

A bear, invisible to me, saunters
Un and down Pine treed hills
Paws softly, rhythmically, passing
Upon these mossy sweet wet hills
Its not forgotten drops of rain, wetting
Its muzzle – the bushes of salmon berry leaves
Meadow flowers brushing against its thick sleek fur

A tiny droplet of water gently bends
Beach grass, this way and that
As the tears of some omni eye fall
Upon the rivulets of the leaves and glides
Over its luscious rich green body to the
Arrow of its shoot, accumulation, it bursts
Silently falling in a clear free fall of
Glorious pure joy, exploding upon the ground
A short sweet life – leaving the beach grass
Wavering happily, beckoning to the immense
Gray sky for more

As the summer passes, as it will, and the lively
Green grasses fade to an autumn hue
It will not have forgotten these blissful
Rainy days

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Inside

"There's a chaos inside that 'll not die down." Unsteady gale wind whips at hair rips souls from their bones leaving corpses of naked bodies curled and crying, wet and muddy Blackness, sound of breathing a scream that wallows, tares from the intestines spewing brown bile, lead heavy words "You'll not drown in a wake of your own making." Shoving gravel through eye sockets, dreading tomorrow caught in a web of mucus, rotting tobacco leaves, dust of glass sprinkled on tongues Empty bottles of fire sing heavy somber tunes, tumbling off the end of the earth, cutting the heads of goddesses bathing in the stars "Turmoil inside suffocates tomorrow and the next." "I know."

Voices

The doctor doesn't seem to understand. Says I'm off. Not quite right. Thin sheets are always talking to me. Voices of old French philosophers and Pompous Englishmen discussing some Colorless Male Burden. Killings and Sexings have been whispered Across candle light by thin wild haired Depressed Americans who rock menacingly Staring at the sky. Waiting for black birds Eyeballs and blood Baritone Black men tell me about blues Grassroot hallucinations speaking through Hazy browns and chaotic melodies "Jazz," she says, "Strange Fruit," She Says. Women talk of the domestic This fucking wallpaper That fucking husband Doctor just doesn't seem to understand. I refuse to enter a library until all these Voices wait their turn

Rusty Muffler

My roommate was nearly killed by a rusty muffler. My rusty muffler. It tumbled, and ricocheted off wet pavement right at her She laughed. Brought the broken pieces by hand, said I'd fix it someday Radio's never worked, orange lights illuminate buttons that have no use, they're pretty in the night reflections Broken knobs flick them on and off on and off on and off on and off Before my muffler's attempted murder a chorus of tired pistons, rubber belts, fluid cylinders, mechanical leavers and stuttering window wipers occupied the cabin hall Now there's only a rumbling to be heard beneath my feet, loudest in every gear rattling organs under thin layers of fat It chokes the need for talk We are taken by the roar from place to place, I flick the orange button lights on and off on and off on and off there's need to yell at times "stop it..." I follow the white lines with my eyes until home, the howling dies, our voices are left to fill the void We listen to ...