rain

217

There was a shift.

The big breath that ceaselessly moves around the earth changed its path.
It exhaled a new perfume.
Its touch on the skin was clammy.

It called and I could not refuse.
Out I went, took up tree pose beneath the Poincianas,
poised,
waiting, in the company of a host of parched and thirsting creatures,
scaly ones, crawling and slithering ones,
feathered and furling ones,
all of us wrapped in the dry embrace of cracked earth.

It came, a surging orgasm of blessed benediction.
It roared its song in shimmers through
the wetlands of my body.

Rain.

The raw awareingness of my senses,
inseparable from those of tree and earth
bird and beetle,
is saturated in wild wet delight!
~

 

7 thoughts on “rain

  1. Oh pleeeeeease send some our way! We’ve had 3 rains since Jan 1. PS I really liked this one, it’s less abstract and more sensual than some of the others.

    1. How I wish I could dear Russil! But the posts here are retrospective, and as you might know, Queensland has had more rain than it can cope with this year! The flooding has been tragic.
      Yes I noticed the sensuousness of this one too. Perhaps dryness inclines one to abstraction and moisture to juiciness? She-who-scribbles just … took the notes as they passed by. Glad you like it!
      Thanks for leaving your comment. May you be blessed with rain, and soon. Gentle, soaking rain – not the deluges that run off and take soil and trees with them…
      Love
      ~ ml

  2. Re ‘abstract’ and ‘concrete’ (two correlative terms), the former is mental (a concept), while the second refers itself to life (experience). Sorry for the intromission.

    1. Love your intromissions dear AM. Would you say the ‘echoes’ are abstract, or concrete?
      As far as she-who-scribbles is concerned, nothing written here is separable from life (experience). But some notes do seem more sensuous, poetic perhaps. I like the mix.
      Bowing
      ~ ml

  3. But of course, they are concrete – concrete, live expressions of ‘what is’, consciousness or awareness. Nothing is lost. I do not know, though, what to say about bad, mediocre or uninspired poetry – degrees of beauty, of truth (of being?), there must needs be, as there are degrees of shadow/obscurity. You will like the following two quotations:

    1- “But if any man come to the gates of poetry without the madness of the Muses, persuaded that skill alone will make him a good poet, then shall him and his works of sanity with him be brought to nought by the poetry of madness.” (Plato, Phaedrus 245.)

    2- “And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods make heaven drousy with the harmony. Never durst poet touch a pen to write until his work were temp’red with Love’s sighs”. (Shakespeare, ‘Love’s Labour Lost – lV, lll)

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