A thunderstorm has come calling tonight.
Curled in my little room, drops land on my windows,
Run rivulets on the fire escape.
I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the rain.
I cannot wait to see the rainbows in the mists of a tomorrow’s sunny morning.
Tuesday Night, at the Laundromat
Someday, I will remember that fog in this city means rain is coming.
I walk in the dark, water runs down my skin and my glasses.
Umbrellas pass me by and I remember.
I have let the downpour cleanse my soul so many times before.
There is a power in knowing one can survive.
Into the Deluge
The rain sweeps down from the scaffolds,
It is like the eye of the storm,
the hurricane that lasts on –
I am a sinner in a world of saints,
The man playing French horn in the subway,
Dark hands resting on the keys,
Alone together in our imperfection.
The melody walks with me, into the deluge.
Thoughts on Rain and Moving On
The rain is coming down tonight,
And it is neither poetic nor beautiful.
I wonder why I always tell myself to move forward,
When my shoes are wet and the dirt from the street,
Has soaked into my socks.
Someone has to know why they say,
It’s always better to move on.
The rain is softly falling,
Quiet notes of country music fill my ears.
Things are familiar, and warm.
My hands feel small as they turn the pages,
And a large coffee mug sits forgotten on the dresser.
For a moment in the evening,
I can forget myself in the sounds of rain.
Learn to stay in the silence between us,
And fill it with the soft feathers of life.
Never am I lost in this darkness,
In this rain.