The First Rain
Placid waves come swiftly in
Riding on the autumn snow.
The odor’s coming around,
The signs of crying clouds
Running down the valley
Then speeding down to my home,
Spattering against the window
To capture the eyes of the new and old.
The months been dry,
So there’s satisfaction in the cold.
Heavy drops bombard the roof,
The woods, road and stone
And filling basements as the river grows.
I wait for a friend to call,
But its fist are drowning out the phone.
Shelter’s found only behind the door,
And while the wait is long
It takes only a minute to slow.
A sigh will come then after,
Within days the green in the grass will be reborn.