Rain

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Sh-h-h-h!

Tune in to the din.

There is no shadow

In the dim of the rush

In the hush,

Of the rain.

This

Is the gloom of sin

In a cowl of cloud.

We wallow in the splash,

In the lash

Of the rain.

Drips of spirit had gurgled down some drain,

Or slid in slow droplets from the window

Of my eyes to puddle upon my hands,

Writhing together in an empty pain

Like the weeping limbs of some willow

Who in summer-flooded fields sways, but stands.

Within this twilight in the middle day

Of later life, I hear the patter and ping,

The roar and crash and splatter. I listen

To the rain in its musings and its fury,

To its whisper, its shout and each tingling

Change of mood, then I catch the puddles glisten

Sh-h-h-h!

There is no thrashing.

Only bright silence

And the breaking quiet scream

Of the beam

Of the sun.

Thus

Comes the refreshing

Salvation of soul

That says today I don’t die.

In the sky

Shines a sun.