Some other day. — Poetry
I've always loved the rain, for as long as I can remember. Since when I was a little girl sitting in the dark with my grandmother in her enclosed porch listening the rain drops drum on the tin roof above while watching the lightening role in over the lake, to this day when I wake in the morning to a wet street and dripping leaves with a smile that feels something like relief.
Here is a poem that I often remember when I walk through the rain as I did this morning.
A Line-Storm Song
The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift.
The birds have less to say for themselves
There is the gale to urge behind
Oh, never this whelming east wind swells
I can't help but get a feeling of needing to go somewhere in the rain especially when he says There is the gale to urge behind
I could use that help gettin there
Replies are closed for this post.