‘
VOICES IN THE RAIN
.
The rain comes today at a steep angle
Stiff lines of it
White and constant, as if it is not obeying gravity
But some assigned purpose and aim.
As if it is coming not out of the west
But out of the past
Carrying with it the scent and air of kitchens and porches
Tobacco, bacon and woodsmoke
From ninety years ago
.
It consoles me, somehow
As I try to listen
To men talk of horses
And women of some newborn baby
Who might have died today.
Copyright 2015
The rain makes me contemplative, too… (& I think we’re both standing under the same shower).
Beautiful stuff here … I mean that. Thank you for sharing. 🙂
thanks
thanks