Today I spent some time away from the acclaim and the disdain of news and sitting outside I watched the rain come down. I was protected only from the wet. I felt the rain’s sibilant sounds, the damp, and the constant mesmeric rhythm of nature’s symphony. I felt the divine singularity of a timpani drip and the clap of drops on leaf. It enveloped my whole body with a splash of wonder, and I watched the forest cleansing from the detritus dust of humankind.
What a glorious moment to a dark day to open the poetic muse.
© 2018 /Rolland G, Smith
The drops, the mist, the pour of rain
In drizzle’s damp and wet refrain
Become the crystal ball of thought
And set a web where dreams are caught.
To watch a drop move down a leaf
And catch a limb with some relief,
Then move, with patience, to the source
As man should do with no remorse.
And once the drop is on the ground
It sinks below without a sound.
To feed the roots of growth above
For me, I call it, Nature’s love.