***
outside the drips splatter
patter to the ground puddle
muddle muddy all around
rain
at last, sweet and blessed
overheard in every attitude
gratitude in every voicing
rejoicing, joining in the sound
me
interesting the poets trend
tend to call the ugly spatter
sadder, sadly i have found
false
it is, to me. instead it is the
sun, with its vicious parching
marching merciless and boasting
toasting, roasting whatever it finds
dead
and gone, turning all it touch to dust
last year was there only drought
doubt that permeated, fear
here in me and all around
blight
bright it is that is the villain
killing, spilling blood, fulfilling
its own needs, reeds bleeding dry of
life, strife it brings sharp as knife as
axes, guillotines and taxes
hush
{eyes closed}: picture perfect days
always include the sunshine
funtime likely to be found
there
at beaches, pleasant and serene
but rain is truer: cleanses, washes
sloshes off the hateful
grateful am i that the ground
loves
the fall, drinks it as must we
for out of dirt there comes no green
lest before there was the rain
and out of heart there comes no clean
lest before there was the pain
***
“Even the sunniest beach, without the presence of bitter water, is nothing but a desert.” – unknown
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