rain by Kate Swearingensmell of rain rising from nowhere
hot like burnt rubber permeating the air
the sky opens
rain and sweat
combine
clothesheavy with heat
form a second skin
claustrophobic and suffocating
the culprit seen only as a blur of perplexity
in columns of stark light
from parking lot beam
and headlight speeding by
one unnoticed drop streams
down my forehead
and is seen
clouding my view
as it falls off eyelashes
then another, and another
sheets fall on asphalt
sizzling like oil in a deep black frying pan
unseen things always seem louder in darkness
they combine in
mystified cacophony
with the sound of a cricket
mournful at its stormy fate
and the echo of my footsteps
as they splatter through unobserved, black
puddles
now I am small again
with barefeet and curls
frizzy in the heavy after-rain air
a warm breeze unites my carefree laughter
with the contented song of an invisible cricket
both of us joyfully observing the storms
not-so-lethal aftermath
toes experimenting in the subtle splash
and skew of my face
as it seems to float amid the blackness
of the asphalt
surrounded by the newly cleaned sky
around me
framed beside the yard, under the stop sign, in a
puddle
black night find me again in an echo of the crickets cry
stopping now, amid the rush of unseen torrents
that soothe my now uncovered feet
eyes closed, arms outstretched, face skyward splattered with rain
cries to shed layers of haste and hurry
indulgence in pure moments when as small as I
forget the burdens of the storm and revel in the serenity that surrounds it
when we can glance upon ourselves in the most simple way
and be amazed.
10/21/2003 Posted on 04/01/2004 Copyright © 2024 Kate Swearingen
Member Comments on this Poem |
Posted by Charles E Minshall on 04/05/04 at 04:54 AM Refreshing poem Kate....Charlie |
Posted by Jean Mollett on 09/30/06 at 05:12 AM Hi Kate,
Great write. Very well said. I love to hear it pinging off things. And to see it on the flowers and spider webbs after a rain. Specially roses. It's beauitful. |
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 10/07/06 at 02:06 PM I'm pleased to see a poem so fine as POTD. Such a tribute to rain and how it surrounds and defines us in its presence. |
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