poem written in response to above image for online poetry class
Rain, old friend, I hear you gathering in the dark. Come—my leaves are thirsty for your silver touch. I have waited through the long hush of heat, roots dreaming of your cool, wandering footsteps. Let your voice fall through my branches, let your fingers drum softly on my moss-green skin. Every drop you bring wakes something sleeping in me— the ferns uncurl, the soil breathes, the shadows brighten. Stay awhile, Rain. The world feels more like itself when you return.
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