Monday, October 14, 2013

Sounds In The Rain

(and now for something completely different)

These are the sounds I might hear in the rain
when I walk the fields this morning:
the drip drip drip of individual drops into puddles of standing water;
or the soothing applause of the rain as it meets the treetops
and the soprano hiss as I move beneath the pines;
the percussive patter of the falling rain in the gravel;
or perhaps the calm chirping of two cardinals as they hunker down
into the fading tall grasses, and take startled flight at my approach;
the rustling and snapping of dead wood as a doe abandons
her warm nest among the fallen leaves, flashing a glimpse of white;
and the steady rumble of the water disturbing the surface of the pond
and the splashes of the tiny rivers forming in the earth.

Those are the sounds I might have heard in the rain
as I walked in the fields today
and learned that I am no country girl:
for these are the sounds I did hear in the rain
and noted
when I walked the fields:
the protests of the dead thistle as the dog galloped gleefully along the path;
the steady swishing of my rubber boots
tangling with leaves and grasses
as they carried them along for a noisy ride;
the airplane beginning its descent as it approached the airport thirty miles away;
the occasional hiss of a car passing on the muddy dirt road across the field
and the distant wail of a siren far to the east;
and the noisy buzzing of my cell phone next to my body
as it vibrated a useless notice about the rain.
But mostly, what I heard
was the sharp and incessant tapping of raindrops overhead
as they struck the umbrella,
that I could not convince myself to set aside.

October 10, 2013

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