The Poetry of Rain

 

I’ve always loved the poetry of rain
As such a force of nature I could feel,
In flow of alley creeks, a distant train,
A way of life and loss it would reveal.

I’d run to classes Monday in a storm,
I’ve always loved the poetry of rain.
At night a cold in bed is safe & warm,
One corner of the ceiling with a stain.

I was a tempest toss’d that never came,
Instead, direction was within my pen.
I’ve always loved the poetry of rain,
To never stop, not if I live again.

Today the southland winter sun is gone
To overcast an evening on the wane.
In fact I feel a po’em coming on,
I’ve always loved the poetry of rain.