Drumming Questions on the Pane
The sky, a bruise of fading blue and grey,
Holds breath suspended at the close of day.
Then, just a whisper, a reluctant sigh,
The first fat drop descends from on high.
Not gentle tears but plummets bold and stark,
That shatter dust and leave their watery mark.
A sudden violence, a cleansing sweep,
Awakening earth from its sun-drenched sleep.
The parched brown grass drinks deeply, greedily,
A silent gratitude for what will be.
The wilting leaves lift with a verdant sigh,
As life, repressed, begins again to fly.
But in this deluge, questions start to bloom,
Of fleeting solace in a world of gloom.
This urgent quenching, will it truly last?
Or fade as quickly as the moment passed?
The roads become reflections, blurred and deep,
Mirroring thoughts the weary spirit keep.
Of sudden change, the unexpected fall,
That alters landscapes, holding one and all.
Is this release a blessing, pure and free?
Or just a pause in drought's intensity?
A temporary balm, a cooling kiss,
Before the sun reclaims its fiery bliss?
The drumming rhythm on the window pane,
A primal pulse, a sweet and somber strain.
It washes clean the grime of hurried days,
But leaves behind a contemplative haze.
For in this downpour fierce and briefly bright,
We glimpse the power of the fading light.
And wonder at the strength of what can break,
To give new life, for goodness gracious sake.
So let it fall, this summer's sudden tear,
A potent truth dispelling doubt and fear.
A reminder stark in its torrential grace,
That even endings hold a hopeful space.
©bfa041725
Copyright ©
Bernard F. Asuncion
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