Monday, July 28, 2014

It Rains





It rains. Not gentle laugh-lines like a chuckle from the sky
But earnest, pelting staccato against the willow-sigh
Where mini-runnels race and chase in senseless rivalry
Their predecessors, rushing like great rivers to a sea

It rains, and home is sweeter in the splashing serenade
And dashing doggerel of silver-slipping promenade
Where daydreams wink in sudden reborn possibility
As summer’s great outdoors implores with rain-ripe urgency

It rains. A strange, sweet sorrow tugs and hugs fond memories
And gardens bow beneath the weight of heaven’s sweeping seas
Where little, stippled lakes dapple the driveway. God unchains
A troupe of lilting legions to parched avenues. It rains

© Janet Martin

6 comments:

  1. So well-said - and the perfect background to cozy in on the porch and read a book.

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  2. Beautiful poem and photo.
    I love to hear the rain, it refreshes mt spirit.

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  3. As I said as I shared this wonderful work on Facebook (couldn't help myself!) it surely is a masterpiece of words. It makes me almost cry - and I am not sure why. So well written. Thanks, Janet, my poet friend!

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  4. Margie, I love the rain too. thank-you:)

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  5. Glynis, thank-you for 'feeling' it and sharing it! Hugs(()) Looking forward to seeing you soon.

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Thank you always for your visit and your thoughts.