Quiet streets.
No view of Blue Hills today.
Nature sent us showers.
Raindrops cling beneath
Street wires, presenting
themselves as strands
of crystal necklaces.
Quiet streets.
No sounds of summer chores.
No children's playful games.
Only nature's music performed
By the rain.
written by Pauline June, 2006
copyright, 2006
5 comments:
I have always loved the rain, but now that I live here in this burnig desert rain is even more precius -- not just to the soil, but to my parched soul.
Often I long for green -- grass, towering trees; the smell of pine, the tang of pitch and the smokiness of moss; and a sparkling summer shower to cool the evening breezes.
I am homesick.
Hmmm... you might want to check my Sunday, June 29th blog.
ack! 25th -- stupid fingers!
Pauline: On the off chance you post a poem that doesn't communicate with my soul, I will just go back to the ones that do. The great thing about a poem is that everytime one reads it, it says something new. So -- it is already too late for you to disappoint!
Nature's music performed by the rain indeed. Q
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