Driving rain streaks down my windowpane,
Its song resonates upon the glass so loud,
The splatter, tatter, of each singing drop,
Sends echos back to emptied clouds.
Nature's bold, unleashing forces,
At times speed like untamed horses,
Down a track of beaten earth,
Searching for their inner worth.
The earth below acts like a sponge,
To suck in moisture from above,
And store until it's summoned forth,
From its earthen cupboard.
The rain has ceased, for now at least,
It takes a coffee break,
But as nature waits, it anticipates,
Full intention of its next release.
~ This has been one of the gloomiest days that I can recall.
Rain continues to fall with no immediate intention of
stopping - or so it seems. Yet these kinds of days provide an
inner solace, a peaceful feeling that only seems to come when
rain is heard dancing on the roof, or trickling down a windowpane
on its way for intended use elsewhere. I find this perfect setting
a muse for inspiration of poetry, and through so, end up with what
is above, sometimes silly, sometimes serious, but always true to myself. ~ R.B.
