When it rains
I love the rain.
It can’t help it,
The first drops tentative
as if testing
the atmosphere.
A vanguard.
Are conditions right?
Then the other troops
of loyal raindrops follow
in succession.
A brave brigade,
a deluge
without forethought.
Streams
a cloud’s instinct
wet
pure
falling.
I love the rain.
Helpless,
the first drops exploratory
as if, to tease.
Or maybe,
issue a warning.
Just enough time
to find
a compact umbrella
a compact umbrella
and unfurl it.
I love the rain
It can’t help it.
And the air
it leaves
behind.
Wet
sweet
pure.
*
The rain came at a time when, by coincidence, I'm working on a painting about a rainy night. I'll post it when it's done. Meanwhile, let me know if you like the idea of a poem here once in a while.
2 comments:
Great description of rain, Megan! I especially like "troops of loyal raindrops follow in succession." I definitely like the idea of seeing poems here!
Thanks, Connie. Delighted you liked my poem. It's somewhat soul baring to post one's poetry so I'm relieved to get the encouragement.
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