Friday Riddle? Nope, I’m fickle as a poet
Like Rain it sounded till it curved
And then I new ’twas Wind —
It walked as wet as any Wave
But swept as dry as sand —
When it had pushed itself away
To some remotest Plain
A coming as of Hosts was heard
It filled the Wells, it pleased the Pools
It warbled in the Road —
It pulled the spigot from the Hills
And let the Floods abroad —
It loosened acres, lifted seas
The sites of Centres stirred
Then like Elijah rode away
Upon a Wheel of Cloud.
I woke up today feeling very poemy. Admittedly I was leaning that way at the bottom of yesterday’s post. September has a habit of doing this to me – so many transitions, so many promises of something new: the start of school for the kids; the idea that I will work on the next phase of the manuscript; find work outside of home; the natural wonder of the transitory nature of the season. Recently the rain has been coming down, so I’m not getting outside to see much nature, feeling like I’m missing it, missing the recent changes. It’s the rain, the lovely melancholy rain.
Poets are such sensitive folks. So many poems about the rain, the moon, the clouds, the dark, the sense of longing brought on by the drop of leaves at this time of year. We are moved by brilliant color and anticipate the lack of it to come as winter rolls in to put this half of the world to sleep under a blanket of cold. Diciduous trees snuggle down into themselves and we add layers, turn inward, physically and mentally. And the rain comes down.
So many songs of rain:
Rain, rain, ra -a a-a-ain, I don’t mind
Shine, shine, shi -i -i-ine, the weather’s fine.
These are the seasons of emotion
And like the winds they rise and fall
This is the wonder of devotion-
I see the torch we all must hold.
This is the mystery of the quotient-
Upon us all a little rain
Just a little rain?
Here comes the rain again
Falling on my head like a memory
Falling on my head like a new emotion
Rain rain go away
Come again another day
Prince’s Purple Rain
Guns & Roses: November Rain
Garbage: I’m Only Happy When It Rains
Creedence Clearwater Revival: Who’ll Stop The Rain
Bruce Hornsby & The Range: Mandolin Rain
Collective Soul: She Gathers Rain
Sting/Police: Shadows in the Rain
James Taylor: Fire & Rain
Blind Melon: No Rain
The Carpenters: Rainy Days & Mondays
And just for kicks and because this is what I’m doing:
Milli Vanilli’s Blame It On The Rain.
Yes, I’ll blame it on the rain. This poemy feeling, this sense of the fleeting nature of time, of the seasons, of life itself and the poor poor lonely old sun I haven’t seen in days.
So just maybe, I’ll get back to writing again very shortly, as it seems to be oozing out of me with the rain. Pitter patter.
A slight rain comes, bathed in dawn light.
I hear it among treetop leaves before mist
Arrives. Soon it sprinkles the soil and,
Windblown, follows clouds away. Deepened
Colors grace thatch homes for a moment.
Flocks and herds of things wild glisten
Faintly. Then the scent of musk opens across
Half a mountain — and lingers on past noon.