Splashes of Poetry

 ...rain is poem-ink!

The earth wears little mirrors scattered on the street and lane

And on the surface of the lake spill spangles made of rain

The artwork on a morning made of rivulets that wend

Down window pane and leaf is like a poem almost penned

The plush hush ‘neath a brush dripping with welkin whisper-sheen

Turns meadow lands from barren strands to bands of knee-deep green

Each flower, like a chalice cups a sip of silver tea

Poured from a lofty palace for the butterfly and bee

I think the ink of rain-drop pink and forget-me-not hue

Makes poets of us all for a perfect moment or two

Its delicate dimensions mount impeccable detail

A poem poured from heaven’s fount in pretty petal-braille

…like umbrellas for fellas that we read about in books

The wood-nymph, elf in fairylands of fern and mossy nooks

As teeniest of tap-dancers in tutus made of glass

Bobble on purple pansy-plume or ballroom-blade of grass

Ah, listen as the pitter-patter cadence ebbs and flows

A tempo from the heavens that only God can compose

Then bow before the author of May morning majesty

He waters fields and gardens with splashes of poetry

© Janet Martin

 The earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof; 

the world, and they that dwell therein.

Ps.24:1

(click reference link to read the rest of this sacred psalm)