RAIN

For Stella Busch-Witte

RAIN

Brave young shoots on April branches.
Though sheltered by a rusty pine
Sudden winds shake every leaf bud
While the timbers howl and whine.

Siren’s screaming in the distance,
Dog is barking out of tune.
Scarce a bird chirps,
Just some squirrels
Chasing old Loops Floop De Loon.

There’s a lull in the proceedings.
Nothing moves. There’s not a sound.
Then the first, the first of many
Thunders
Claps into the ground.

Rain falls faster first,
Then slows.
With each stream my hearing grows.
On and on the patter goes.

As I listen to the rain,
All the anguish, all the pain
Leave my body, leave my soul.
I feel refreshed, and sound, and whole.