A Favorite Thing
(Something wonderful, most people don't appreciate.)
Early in the morning I rise to see,
A quiet grey darkness surrounding me.
Hovering slightly above the trees,
Blending in with the moving leaves.
Then, softly as a muted song,
The cool drops fall and splash among,
The petals of the waiting flowers,
As they sway upon spindly towers.
I love the rain, its sound and feel,
The distant sound of a thunder peal.
It quickens within the heart of me,
A peaceful hope new life to see.
I recall a house and its roof of tin,
A soothing sound after being tucked in.
The pitter-patter of a million tiny feet,
Beating out a rhythm tranquil and unique.
We were so poor, and that house very old,
Seems we could hardly keep out the cold,
But this one pleasure was totally free,
Raindrops playing a lullaby for me.
I'm stirred in memory of another time,
When in a differant winsome clime,
On board ship and out to sea,
Raindrops fell mesmerizing me.
Like dancing diamonds upon the water,
Causing a cool thick mist to gather,
'Round me standing on deck alone,
With melancholy thoughts of my distant home
And my loved ones so far away,
Raindrops comforted me on that day:
As they do now while they trickle down,
Making little puddles on the softened ground.
Now, I feel cool moisture in a breeze,
See the gentle swaying of nearby trees,
Thinking of my wife and children still sleeping
Missing the beauty of God's promise keeping.
I thank the Lord for the gift of rain,
And the renewing assurance that it brings,
Of his kind concern for our earthly means.
Rain is one of my favorite things.
Matt.5:45 "...and God sendeth the rain
on the just and the unjust".
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
