Rain
I hear tires swishing
On wet pavement
As rain falls on the street
Below my window
Their gentle sounds soothe me
Into sleep
A foghorn calls warnings
From its station on the water
Off a Lake Michigan shoreline
An urgent voice
Repeating repeating repeating
Through heavy rains
Through dense fog
This foghorn of my childhood
Whose language
I learned to love early on
Will never forget
Rain is on its way
Over a meadow of rocks
Of tall wavy grasses
Across from my cabin
At summer camp
It advances towards me
Like an army
Slow steady relentless
Then pours itself
Onto the cabin roof
A hundred kettle drums
Pound over my head
Reverberating through every bone
In my body
Oh I long for Mother
I want to go home
Drought
Many rains since
Have come have left their imprints
On my mind
Their sounds the smell of wet earth
A day with no sun
Only clouds hanging low
Different shades of gray
That change as rain stops
Begins again
Sheets of rain sweeping down a street
Across an empty field
As wind pushes them along
I visualize rain
Dropping on the surface of a pond
A lake the ocean itself
Hear rain pound against my windows
Pray rain think rain
Give thanks for rain
Silently call to my friend
The sycamore tree
Call to every living thing
That sustains itself
From the earth
Hang on Hang on
The rains will come
They will come
Hang on
Hang on
*photo image: gemini