Rain Song

Densest fog hovers over the mountains, Blue ridges reformed, now steely, Gray as the moment just before dawn, When silence bleeds her dreams Through the still, cool light Graceful as the sigh, Wistful as the music’s rhythm Sustenance for fires, Breathed from trembling oaks, birthed by hearts, Grieving as the December storms, Shattering the moments, stricken by burning Promises, echoed on the shadows, Filling the moments, Erasing the naked branches With mists in hues of muddled misery. Rain sprinkles, showers - nervous, Shuddering and shaking, Breaking through the reticence, Rhythms in puddles, Muzzled by the rocky moments, When hope explains her dreams, Hushing the wind, Refusing to let the rain’s gentling, Stir the mystery, Anonymous liquids, melting the feelings, Blown carefully into piles, Across the deep woods, heavy with wet, Aching to be dried by the fires of the sunlight, Reflecting all the poetry Growing its wonder from stark naked limbs, Shattered by the past, Who still listens amid the smoky grief, Melting away the peaks… Quiet mountains, cerulean hills – Tempted by drizzling streams, Hesitating, torrents Flowing over the nights, blessed with dreams. Rain, wistful and full of peace … Stirs the shining emerald stones, Muffled by the soft cadence, Rain, measured – pulsing, a melody, Lifting the hymns from the hills, Agile as melancholy breaks Through the dreams, Dignified and lissome, willowy As the edges of a forest Where dejected stumps and decaying leaves, Breathe out a dismal affection, For the layers of lasting peace, serenity Poured out over the blue ridge mountains, Who grieve quietly for November’s thirsty tedium, October’s gasping glory and September’s Soothing psalms, promising Wonder that will last all year long, All year long – as the rain pelts the thoughts… In breathless tears poured out From bleeding clouds, milked by December’s doubts.