Showers in Their Season
Scattered tip-tap trickles spill on the sill,
A quiet clinking rattle rapping on
My screen window on the second story.
From a distance, I peek at the drizzle,
Visible amidst the canopy of clouds,
Coating all in light liquid love that clings
To my peripheral like drips and drops.
Pitter-patter prayers leave my lips,
And with a spring, I step out into the mizzle.
Brisk stings dot my skin, and I wake to
Beauty pooling on the pavement,
Words dribbling on red rooftops,
Misty whispers leaking into my mind,
Love raining lightly, a reminder to live.
Steady and endless, I rest in the gentle rhythm,
But bristle as sprinkles start to shiver my fingertips.
Chilled, I duck through the door, a retreat.
I tune out the clitter-clatter calls
And wring out wisdom before it soaks in.
Your presence is a patient precipitation.
Drumming deep thuds, a double-pound sound
That grumbles and grasps and unsettles me.
Bulbs buzz and blink out of existence, leaving
Me behind in an ink-thick darkness indoors.
The bellows blow down my front door, beckoning
Me deeper into the rolling storm. I resist,
And sky-fire splits in splinter-crack static attacks
That choke me with awe. Hurling gusts of gale
Gasp and drag me from my haven to face
Heaven’s outpour. Broad drops bludgeon my
Mortal mind, power surges in thick churns
That I can only drown in. I am horror-struck,
Astounded, ecstatic and dazzled as raw, yawning
Floods fall and swallow me whole. Sloshing sheets
Douse and drench me as sprawling clouds crown
The grayscale sky, and below the soil is soaked through.
The maw of the overcast draws me in,
Lost in a cause that dwarfs me, pelted by a
Downpour so deep, all I can do is bow.
Your presence is a howling hurricane.
Grit sticks to my cracked lips as I awake
In a sandscape I must scavenge. I rasp
Tepid remarks, stiff steps shuffling onward.
Brittle and rusted, my bones blister under the
Dreaded sun. I crave a cloudburst, but the
Sky is sealed. Are there no signs of rain?
Or am I too inept and fickle
To pick out the wind shifts? I ache across
The red rock ridge, skeletal pricks of my
Ribs clicking as I take empty gasps. My skin
Is scorched, an ash-dusted, tarnished
Husk scraped raw. I talk till my tongue
Runs dry, utterances cut to parched hisses
That rattle my gravelly throat.
Mirages dance past the sand to
Distract and tantalize my gnawing heart.
But I am left hacking at the earth’s crust,
Digging up chalky wisps. Hollow, I holler
Hoarsely. Sand crinkles in my teeth.
Your presence leaves me longing.