Last night it rained, Oregon rain,
so hard the chimney sang
and this morning more rain,
more dark, Oregon dark.
There is a cave in Ireland
that birthed Queen Maeve,
the darkest cave in all the land
but not to match our winter.
Big drop rain in the forest,
brown bark soaking down
through the deep soft soil.
Summer trees drink the sun,
hoarding heat in their honey pitch
but in winter the dark’s drunk deep,
absorbed and stored in root and rock,
the dark that spring-light calls
to rise and return the earth to color.
photo by Willard Walch
Thanks Don. Warm fires and good friends to nourish us as we shift with the rains deep into our dreams…
So where I was last night driving to the coast, Oregon coast, in a driving rain at eventide. Blessings of our wonderful season to you and yours, Don.
Thanks, Don. I am all the more grateful for Montana’s Big Sky, even when it snows, and snows, and snows. The silence is almost musical.
Magnificent, Don. Many essences portrayed through word, evoking a hundred-fold more in my consciousness – rich!
Once again Don, this is a wonderful expression of our unique place in the world, and it’s transformational effects upon us. The rain comes – sometimes with a vengeance! We absorb it. It goes beyond rain or weather. We survive it…and somehow manage to prosper.
So, here I am attempting to interpret your phrasing. Your eloquent words. Please forgive my clumsiness…My arrogance at trying to interpret your poetry… But your poetry is for me. Just like it is for every intelligent being on the planet. Because its for them, too.
Thanks Don, for this one……beautifully poured out…..and here in southern Oregon, we’re waiting for that hot Oregon sun…..