The rushing of the rain straight, hard and clean sounds like a mountain stream.
Under cover I listen to it fall,
pounding the metal roof, rolling like a kettle drum
It makes me want to jump up and dance
Sends shivers up and down my spine
The rain releases all pent up tension,
As my old dog lays suspicious by my side.
The noise too loud, or he may smell a threat but it’s just spring weather slaking earth’s thirst with a long tall drink
So calmly I contemplate the falling rain
Not for insight or revelation but the sacred feeling of being held fast in Nature’s all encompassing grasp.
In the time it falls the world stops:
Demands of imagined duty,
Worries of what’s not been done,
Even anger and jealousy subside.
And the water washes over wounds
And cools me down outside and in.
THH
5/4/24
Thoughts Have Hands 