Rain Me Words


 It was very... earthy Out There tonight, wasn't it? I guess that tends to happen when a late afternoon thunderstorm rumbles and bumbles its way through the area, leaving puddles in the low areas, bend down heavy flower-laden branches, catch on leaves that shimmer and shower down upon a passing wheeler.

"My mind has thunderstorms
That brood for heavy hours
Until they rain me words,
My thoughts are drooping flowers
And sulking, silent birds.

Yet come, dark thunderstorms
And brood your heavy hours;
For when you rain me words,
My thoughts are dancing flowers
And joyful singing birds."
(W. H. Davies)

Twenty minutes away there was sound and fury sure, but of rain
there was barely enough to spot the dust on a windshield.





Davies' muse perhaps worked for crow, but not for me.

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