rainy nights

How could anyone not want to live when there were so many things to live for?  
There were rainy nights and wind and the slap of the sea and the moon.  
There were books to read and pictures to paint and music.—Michelle Magorian
 
 
whene'er the skies at night
are whet with drums,
and purple lightnings stir
their crashing gong,
i listen as each tearful
drip-drop comes
to improvise
its embryonic song.
 
i fathom not why
slain rain jars so hard
against the window
of my reverie,
nor why bright stars let down
their rigid guard,
when i most languish for
their company.
 
but this i know:
my lyric-scented lips
the ears of my belovéd
seek like gold,
as, with their syncopated,
dulcet drips,
dark, rainy nights my fervent
dreams unfold.
 
© Copyright 2023 July 04
by Clyve A. Bowen♫