Waxing poetic on thoughts, theory & the times
It’s raining
On just my side of the street;
Don’t believe?
Come, Come and see;
Feel the water,
Wet,
upon what was dry skin,
Feel my different perspective,
That is so close
But won’t touch yours ;
“Hey, what’s it called,
This anomaly?”
“The scientific reasoning?”
“And why you, not me?”
“Or does it even matter?”
Consider:
If you come over,
Is it still “You” versus “Me”,
When the rain is shared?
Rain came,
With wind blowing in the cool mist,
The drops gently falling
To trace the contours of the dry land
Touching all in its midst;
Thirst is quenched,
If just for a day,
With this single spring shower;
Puddles collect within dimples of earth,
And slowly build,
Overflow,
And run freely as translucent ribbons,
Streams flowing,
Spreading,
Mixing necessary libations
Of and for life.
Heavy clouds open their veil,
A thundering of droplets
Beat the ground,
And the dirt beneath the grass drinks eagerly
Wind sails past,
uninhibited by the wetness,
No, it conducts the rain;
A symphony,
Welcome in this April month,
With sounds that will calm,
Slow,
And lull
Busy living beings
To rest.
To whom shall I ask the big questions?
The meaning of life questions?
The “why do we die?” questions?
Who might hold the answers;
The trees?
The sky?
The ocean breeze?
What will shepard me to the next plane?
When will my time come?
For I only know that it must come,
Reliable like the summer rain.
Heavy rain on snow
Dense mist tendrils creep on in,
White fog ghosts float forth.
Unexpectedly
Rain clouds part, bringing sun rays,
Beams hope of rainbows,
Fog disperses, leaving misted
Blades, petals, skin, fresh with new
A breath is sighed,
Rejuvenated Mère Earth,
Again anointed,
Cleansed by her own tear water;
Creatures rejoice, and breathe deep
She of Letters 