Ode To the Rain
Rain drops pounding upon my window pane,
Oh joy! Not the foreboding sound of gloom.
The sun blotted from the sky by gray rain
bringing harmony and flowering blooms.
I hear the distant sky's waning thunder.
The catharsis of mother earth's womb shares
the joys of rebirth in the winds chorus
with the sound of wonder.
In the warmth of my home, my soul declares;
the rain has come to relieve me from stress.
Shall I take a sweet nap or lose control?
In my flannel pajamas, I delight
in quiet time alone, feeding my soul.
First, sleep with dreams, love caressed in starlight.
Hand-in-hand, a stroll under silver moon.
Awakened by a gentle kiss to spark
feelings stolen by my mundane routines.
With flower petals strewn,
moistened blooms beckon me out to the park
to skip and splash like a child in blue jeans.
Rain still pours from the sky as I reach home
for a matinee, Singin' in the Rain.
Cozy with hot tea, no more need to roam.
Warm, content feelings, I cannot contain.
Gene Kelly inspires me to leave my bed
dancing through my house with full abandon.
Music plays loudly, I'm liberated.
A gray day turns bright red.
As I dance, ducks splash outside on my lawn.
My tired body feels rejuvenated
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for An Ode to Small Comforts on a Rainy Afternoon contest (Cyndi MacMillan)
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