RAIN

Mornin’ people.  The heats rising already this a.m.  on my third sippy the coffee.  And the poetry has yet to reveal itself.  As you loyal followers know, it will.  BTW..  I have my story for the Entre-Slam next week.  I’m Not telling it here, you’ll have to come hear me.  

 

Rain seems best when not from the heart

It’s best when it comes gathered up 

in those fat grey rolling clouds

filled with lightening and thunder

ready to burst wide and feed the land

 

Rain that comes from the heart takes 

the lightening hits with anguish

and thunder shudders the hurt hard

through the whole body in a fever

Storming fast the drenched inside

 

Some rain is tender, soft to the land 

Gentle on the heart in a patter of care

A little nurturance and giving

Melting the grey cloud to blue

with no tribulation to an open heart

 

All storms have a way of clearing out 

Rain or tears inside or out

A great washing away for a new day

It’s noticing the gift of it

Noticing the refresh of the release

 

Maybe the heart’s rain is best.