Mad Rain

This is a little poem I wrote yesterday, just before it started raining.

Pokers stand up straight and fiery,

Exercising vain power against the wind

Heat rises up from an unseen source,

Joining with the wind to buffett and call up the rain

Every impending drop a word,

heavy with meaning like an unformed prayer

Every tongue vibrates with anticipation,

straining to translate the relevance of

almighty nature expressing itself in a common way.

Felt by everyone,

enlarged pupils look up at a partial sky

still scraped through with blue,

the remains of a fine but significant day.

But it cannot be grappled with.

The sky falling on warm hands and faces, incomprehensible.