Springtime rains
glazed roads wet with small
birds tweeting their flutes into
the breeze catching the notes,
gray sky listens, folded into shades
of varying contrasts and dimensions.
Sweet, wet springtime, we hear you pitter pat,
appreciate the wetness and patiently await warm sunshine
and spring blossoms carried in little beaks, fluttered
on gentle wings.
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2 comments:
What a lovely evocative little poem, Rebb. It makes me want rain here too. (I was already wanting rain, we've had a succession of cloudless days and it's quite unnatural, but you have made that want into something very specific and sensuous.)
Thank you for your lovely reaction, Vincent. We've had days since where the sun peeked out then clouded back up and this morning it is raining some more and the winds howl at times. I wonder what April will bring.
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