princess lightning reigned
it was a dark and stormy
knight to fall in love
rain
Summer wonder
late June, monsoon — kaboom!
patter, splatter, fat drops gather
splats, taps, windowpane raps
wind whips, swish, whish —
summer’s rumbling thunder
flash, crash, lightning dash
plash, splash, sky unlashed!
Conversations
“Sometimes, to have a conversation you really need to have, you need to take a walk alone in the rain.”
—Robert Brault, rbrault.blogspot.com
Rain & shine
Many things happen rain or shine, but rainbows are so special they happen
Two A.M. drops
dancing in the rain
at nature’s cloudy party
Opening night
monsoon winds tell tales
lightning dances thunder sings
rain is main event
Finally a bath!
watching birds splash in
morning-after rain puddles
cleanses my spirit
Sky-happy
foggy heavy-gray teary-eyed low-hanging
snow-stuffed melancholy winter clouds
impulsive wayward turbulent thick-swift-dark
tempestuous hail-angered storm clouds
sprinkling lighthearted fanciful breeze-drifted
rainbow-nestled April-hued springtime clouds
enormous white-fluffy fairydust-fringed
frolicsome sun-illumed carefree summer clouds
thunderous intense restless rain-soaked
lightning-streaked July-dyed monsoon clouds
azure-skylit sunglow-slanted edge-gleaming
white-silver billowy contemplative autumn clouds
vivid vibrant blissful dawn-lit joy-beamed
daybreak-florid sunrise-tinted morning clouds
aimless airy midday-lazy wandering listless
mountaintop-floating leisurely afternoon clouds
amber-ablaze day’s-end-pink ephemeral-amethyst
evening-welcome smoky-embered sunset clouds
lambent star-flanked luminous moon-halo’d
glowing shadow-painted skygazers’ night clouds
Thunderstorm
boom rustle tip tap
tippity clink rumble crack
whoosh whish shhh fade black
XXXI
My stiff-spread arms
Break into sudden gesture;
My feet seize upon the rhythm;
My hands drag it upwards:
Thus I create the dance.
I drink of the red bowl of the sunlight:
I swim through seas of rain:
I dig my toes into earth:
I taste the smack of the wind:
I am myself:
I live.
The temples of the gods are forgotten or in ruins:
Professors are still arguing about the past and the future:
I am sick of reading marginal notes on life,
I am weary of following false banners:
I desire nothing more intensely or completely than this present;
There is nothing about me you are more likely to notice than my being:
Let me therefore rejoice silently,
A golden butterfly glancing against an unflecked wall.
—John Gould Fletcher (1886–1950), “XXXI,” Irradiations, 1915
Springtime sky & no reason why
Have you ever seen anything more beautiful
than a heavy dark-silver cloud
taking up half the sky
ready to lavish the gift of rain
unto the waiting earth —
than huge wandering clouds
marbled in every subtle shade of gray
bordered with light and hope
shifting and swirling every moment
in a slow dance with the winds?
Have you ever felt anything as beautiful
as the breeze on your face
or that first, fat raindrop
that falls on your head —
as the sun caressing every inch of your flesh
warming and calming you to the core?
Have you ever heard anything more beautiful
than the wind in the palms, the pines,
the cottonwood leaves and tall green trees —
than the sound of merry birds singing
or water trickling through a forest creek —
than soul-shaking booming thunder
filling the width and depth and height
saturating with stunning sound
the infinite and electrified sky?
Have you ever tasted anything as beautiful
as pure, clear, cool water
the essence of earth and life
the most refreshing, primal elixir
a quenching, flowing vitality
the distinct taste in each satisfying sip
of both nothing and everything —
or the raw power of the earth
in the layers of an onion
the fresh energy of vibrant greens —
or the sweetness of the soil
in a dense crunchy colorful carrot
or a perfectly ripe juicy berry
staining your taste buds
and delighting your soul?
Have you ever smelled anything so beautiful
as orange blossoms in the nighttime air
with a perfume more intoxicating
than any other seduction —
as a rejuvenating and serene pine forest
with a thick carpet of aromatic green needles
or the dust-earth smell before the rain comes —
as salty, nourishing scents of the nearby ocean
or invigorating crisp clean air of the mountains
breathing so close to the fresh, free, blue sky —
as the warm, exciting aroma of springtime
giddy and green, flowery and pristine?
Monsoon love
for the harsh heat wave
wet apologetic gift
from clouds to tree roots
Enclosed
Our bodies are meant
for the sun, the rain
the gusty winds
starlight and moon baths
fresh air and seasons —
so why do we trap ourselves
in indoor cages?
If we can’t hear birds sing
or feel invigorating breezes —
how are we to be refreshed
to heal, to know the world
beyond the borders
of our bodies?