What spell he knows well how to cast
as from a dull flat sky downcast
he pours himself in torrents fast,
How can he touch my heart so deep,
nudge me into magic sleep,
with the lullaby of the bouncing drops
Drops that bring the grass to life
first with a gentle pace, then strive
stronger, faster, pounding sweet
in a crescendo.
Her emotion spent, the grass now lies
happy; sated now, she gently smiles,
sways and dances to the tune
set down by the rain.
Turning then to the firm pavement,
he strikes hard till the poor cement
under the barrage of bursting blows
yields at last.
Aims at those spots from the hanging roof,
shows no mercy, blasts and breaks,
and moves and shakes, command he takes
Mighty force that can hit and crash
proud tall structures in a flash
and enormous trees uproot and slash,
he is fearsome.
Yet he sings to me songs sublime,
the breeze, love laden, keeps the rhyme,
as she flows through the window, crosses time
to my younger days.
“The rain will soak, the wood will warp,
“close the window,” chides my wife.
What truly weighs more in my life,
I ignore her words, watch paper boats
from another time, another age,
swirling, turning, they engage
childhood’s violent rivers.
Lightning strikes again and again,
I lose myself in the spell of this rain,
to no one else can I explain