In the valleys of the northwest
spring rains continue,
not from a mass of gray
like December
but dark fleeting clouds
that flatten leaves
and soak the ground
before the dry heat
of August.

The earth yearns
with every move desiring
the keen edge blunted
by my rusted faith;
pelted leaves drip
with gathering strength
as light finds its way
to my thin veined aperture,
praying for what falls freely
from the passing sky.

 

 

12 Responses

  1. The transparency of your words open my heart wide. Let me always feel the rain and the new Life it brings forth.

  2. Thank you, Don. Here, frogs are ushering in the rainy season simply “praying for what falls freely…”.
    I am not so arrogant as to say, “the rainy season is 2 months early!” The “passing sky” has its own duty. Gaia’s workers have much restorative work at hand.

  3. This one feels like it rolled off your tongue like honey, soft pouring, unstopped out of a clean spout..

  4. love the clarity, the depth… especially “the keen edge blunted
    by my rusted faith”

  5. The phrase “praying for what falls freely” reminds me how I sometimes pray for what I already have, already know, but forgot in the heat of the moment. Sitting quietly, I remember it is I who forms my world, my Universe. Standing, I walk in power that freely comes from within where my sharpened edge abides.

  6. This piece is so alive! I’ve enjoyed reading and rereading it, each time feeling more refreshed, like drinking water when I really need it.

  7. Don, beautiful feeling. Here in high desert Colorado, rain is a blessing. I was shingling a roof the other day in the rain and I felt so invigorated by the rain and wind. Let it rain. Thank you.

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