Rain is falling on the window,
pinging the chimney
like bells in early light,
the old world turning over
with the weight of a river
daring to follow the dark wood,
each drop surrendering,
following the inescapable
as we all must,
turning like the world
with the weight of a river.
Ahh…rain and water and rivers of water…the inescapable death of seeming truth amid the pervasive river of life. I love this poem, Don…so fitting for the season of heart revolution.
Just think….some of those raindrops may have taken to the New Zealand sky on an eastward journey just to ping your chimney with their story, knowing you were waiting…still…calm…for the message that would manifest in this poem for me to dance to. And the world turns.
Yes, rain falls on the window in the season of the heart revolution. It must fall. I was trying to learn Roberta Flack’s “The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face” but tears fell each time. Yet, we move on in the turning world.
The old world is turning over and I can hear it groaning…….and the pinging rain is signalling the new…
“Surrendering…[to] the inescapable…”
I love the sound of winter rains, the inward journey toward the never ending river of life. Thanks Don, lovely.