The Poem
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SPRING #1 . I look at the calendar and then at the sprinkles of fat water globule's and I can't help but wonder if there is really any difference in
them between seasons? Wet is wet when I chance to encounter
a droplet from my faucet neither more nor less wet by the atmospheric
difference pressed fast against my window. Yet I am pleased
to think that the rain falls softer, warmer, if only because
I believe. ♥ #2 . The trees shiver
and seem to swell with the returned flow of sap the returned rhythm of life the warming earth drawing up sap along veins empty with their winter's
sleep. If Thee sit quiet for long enough you'll heard Mother Nature seeking
reassurance from Father Time. ♥ #3 . The
sidewalk is slick, the edge of the street reflects the colors of th vehicles as they pass with the freedom implied by the season. I watch as the
shades of green change their colors and hue on a daily basis impatient
with the freedom implied by the season and I am torn between
relief at the lack of ice as the weather warms in increments impatient with the freedom implied by the season ♥ #4. , In
the silence I hear a distinct rat-ta-tat-ta as green presses with crisp definition
where snows vaguely outlined just a month ago and it catches me off0guard in delight! ♥ #5. . There
is hardly any difference between the street and the buildings at a gray noon than
when I woke at five a.m. to see a round and golden moon shoulder
to shoulder with the roof of the urban high-rise graceful skyscraper the century old newspaper building watching me back over the
shoulder of the moon~ but oddly, the buildings merge as if aloof from the rain. ♥ #6. . At the hesitant introduction
of the rain catching my attention by the light drum of its fingers on my dusty window
~ I look up with mixed feelings from a childhood where rain
brought special permission a special promise wetly wed to the actual event of meaningful
precipitation but I wince as now rain means cold where a month
ago it snow and I lifetime ago I played indoors - making
as much noise as the Nuns would bear! ♥ #7. . The emptiness of the damp stresst suggests the sky cleansed itself for
several miles as I slept and I step out tentatively wondering if my umbrella is an unnesessary buiurden as I glance skyward and smile in return. ♥ #8. . The rain promised clouds once hovering
on the face of the mountain have drifted to the other side of the valley where my
city sleeps, empty shells, magnificently pleased with themselves; I pause to wonder if Shakespear's thoughfulness and muse, his inight into his fellow
human beings closeted as a man of letters was expanded or illuminated byt
he twilight of English skies? ♥ #9. . As
the sun recedes and shoots of green shyly thrust skyward from moistened earth I
am reminded that rain is needed by other living things as we share the swing of
the seasons! . As the sun receds ♥ #10. . A chirp from a bird's nest causes me to look up, inviting
me to share its exploration of existence. A child's laugh from
the other side of the river where the waters cascade with youthful energy gathered from separate heartbeats of raindrops and cold rain which
thumbled to the ground as snow on the side of the face of the
sleepy mountain now awakened to slip and slide their way down the mountain in their eternal voyage to the sea before they dry and rise again to
the cradle of waiting clouds before the weight within plunges them to earth
again. ♥ #11. . The
trees bud, the shrubs bloom enduring better cold following
what was several days of bright, warm sun- isn't this supposed to be Spring? ♥ 12. . I find a wistfulness seized upon me an emptiness within me so unusual it
draws my attention away from my preoccupation with sighs and empty promises that drift as lightly as the rain which inspired them: Spring Fever, if it must have a name! ♥ #13 With the
fortissimo built of waters rains from my emotions, my ages, come together to slip
down my cheeks in loving caress as the winds cheer like the tantalizing direction of a Maestro who controls the flood or the gentle patter of
rain each in its place against the fabric of Life of which
I am privileged to share through sixty-five seasons of spring, summer, Autumn and winter rains. SUMMER 14. . In
my dreams I walk the sea bound cliffs of Ireland and I lift my face to be drenched with languid
rain the dampness of tears and the soft heaving sighs from a wearied heart. I my dreams I walk through lush, damp grass ankle deep; I see trees line the distance
the inner landscape as I substitute the fall of rain for the frenzied patter of
water pushing at stones they can't hope to move. In my dreams I follow the arc of
the raindrops through dampened air ripe with the sweet scent of lush fruit in bed a paradise discovered to which I may return ~ if only in my dreams! ♥ 15 . In my youth I slept many months in rural Nevada in all kinds of weather where water, its
use or lack profoundly affected the lives of the desert and the animals preserved
in the empty miles of sage brush, and dust, the stains of an operatic tenor rising
in power from the window of the weathered farm house of my memory, the
drip of rain mimiced, replaced by droplets of water seeping individusally from the wettened
burlap of the evaporating air unit clasped in dry hands by the waiting desert who
shielded the precious dew and the rain of last season in its fibrous center of
being- as do I. ♥ 16 . Summer
has always been my best friend allowing me time to laze on my back in the
sun warmed grass as clouds graciously hold their moisture within allowing me to
dream undisturbed. ♥ 17 . It strikes the window
pane and pummels my mind! Blocking out stars that usually make
those heights so rare and enjoyable, but I am helpless at
what occurs outside my pane. I turn away but a damp pallor
slaps at me through the glass an insulting reminder that water
is necessary for life year round even when the snows have run
the rapids to the sea. ♥ 18 . I hear a whisper like
the hiss of a wave stumbling unto the shore and I pad to the window in disbelief. It was suppose to be dryer for the weekend, but here is rain, in
the middle of the sun belt? ♥ 19 . I
lean over the river's edge and look to see if my reflection chooses to look back but all I see is the pace of dark fast clouds leaping from mountain
to green mountain. ♥ 20 . Almost
against my will I shuffle toward the blinds closed against yesterday's sun; cautious
about the rat-ta-tat rhythm plucked against the air conditioner. . What if? It's only condensation from the unit the next floor up or
confirmation from me July could weep? ♥ 21 . I
watch a television show where rain drops like a shilled against
the window pane as backdrop to the action portrayed and I
am envious! Not of their life, or their struggle or triumph
I imagine will soon emerge with the arrival of the televised
sun but that they can feel the sting of the saltless water flowing
on them as they attempt to remember their lives as the sound of rain calls
the heart to dream! ♥ 22 . I missed the rainshowe it was so brief striking against my upstairs
bedroom windows so softly I'm not even sure if it woke up Cat? But as I shuffled
across the carpert and twirled open the vertical blinds to greet the fresh shunshine
I.m delighted to discover that it and the building across the street washed
faces a street sweeper wouldn't think of Simonizing! . So
gingerly I turn to face the massive wall of gray white obscuring the form of adults on the street below my view in misty review as thee street lights reveal
the presnese of unqiusitious rain drops. ♥ 23 . The sunlight was so strong and rigorous it dominated the light of day but
at the tender renewal of dusk we passed from time of havvest to a respite well earned. . It caught me off guard and I listened in question before I risked looking away frm my computer while Cat slept in 'his' chair
a feet feet away from me blissfully alseep and unaware he missed the quiet storm
surrounding us. ♥ 24 . A quiet amd powerful
senmse of expecation lifted my chin as I stared at the computer screen, turning
me around bodily to stare at the window, So often it is raining full out but I remain unaware
unless it is a slanting rain able to escape the cement lions guardians along tyhe
upper reaches of the strusture that by the time I am aware of the diminiutive drumming,
it has been raining for hours and the only clue is the rain wept under the lights
of the street lamps! ♥ 25 . Like the soft gigh sound of a lute the summer storm harkens
its arrival brings a sense of expecation, being so brief it
cannot risk being ignored. Like the compelling chimes of a hanging brass casscde the air moves along the building tops casting unique shadows that change by the minute in careless disarry. . Teaching
me by example as the rain drifts around my head and shoulders in a quick
touch of reknewed frienship, that Life is cycled, recycled, memeoriable, renewalble as I drift indoors to get dry and warm up, carrying chersished, chisled, memeories indoors as ther emainder of the rain drifts to find a home of tis own. ♥ #26. . I walk at the edge of gravel and mud on the country road of Greenacres. I
feel the dampness of the air after a refreshing summer
rain shower and I dream about the days
I lived here and walked with Tasha and Cinder along these country roads. AUTUMN 27 . It started with gray, the sky wearing the color of damp cement, taking the shackles off of freedom; then it diffused as it drifted from the sky~almost as an afterthought and the colors which remained merged into pale similarity; almost as an afterthought. It ended with a crimson sunset with
all the clouds that once were lined with
gray now reflect the passions of the parting day expressing life: sunshine, shadows, rain, and in
between as I pause, willing to let go of the view ♥ 28 . There
is an old saying: "Where the sun
always shines, there's a desert below" I remind myself as I drift through the soft mist that floats on the air. ♥ 29. A light tapping on my window behind me warns the rain is falling as my back is turned inviting me to come out and play before Mother Nature changes her mind and heats up the street till the glare hurts my eyes! ♥ 30. . As the rain plays I resist looking
away from my computer screen but the light
tapping makes it difficult for me to focus on landscapes only available in my mind! ♥ 31. . the Wind seems intent on blowing the rain away but the heavy clouds linger beside the shield of the implacable mountain tops. For, having peaked through enough windows to see the calendars lining the walls, they know they have days left to them no longer cold enough to snow! ♥ 32. . When I was a young girl living in
a nun's boarding school I came to value
rain because it allowed us indoors. We would be allowed to sit in layers on the two tiers of the stairs usually
reserved as the providence of the grim,
silent nuns, where laughed echoed with out reprimand other than a raised eyebrow on occasion, warning us as we
played the boardgames on allowed on these
days that the sun would return us outdoors, and Nuns have long memories and wooden rulers aren't affected
by rain like we were! ♥ 33. . As
I stood under the awning my jaw went slack. Rain poured down though the bright but chill sunshine. As
I peered into the store front window across the street I saw the individual reflections of what appeared to be a sheet of water when I noticed
a face inside the building smiling back at me and I suspect thinking the same thing! Rain is preferable to snow- any day sunny or wet! ♥ #34. . Droplets dance in
the air eternal spirit at play colliding, joining, parting in
exuberance effervescence before joining forcess to tickle the burgeoning earth unit it erupts in laughter in layers of sensuous
blossoms and the latent promise of fulfilled fecundity. ♥ #35. . I
am shocked awake by the sound of Thunder following Brother Lightening unmeek, dizzying display followed all too often by wild fires
in denser packed stands of dense forest unless accompanied by their shyer Sister Falling Rain. ♥ #36. . Respondent,
somnolent growth is evident everywhere I peer at the shadeless trees lining the sidewalk between n=my destinations panting for breath in the
heat. The hearty flowers and weeds secure in their conquest and bold seizure of Spring's timid promise, rest. While the soft
gray mist that cleaves to my brief passage outdoors promises the return of rain,
the eternal, seemless passaged of seasons as time goes by, one lingering on the other. ♥ #37. . As the sun
recedes to an over-all gray mist I am reminded that rain
is the broom that sweeps away the debris left in the heat of a long summer's day when the warmth seems to be a cloak we may wear forever. As the sun returns as timid as a shy lover unsure
of the reception thet might recieve I am reminded that
the earth is familiar with cycles of dry and wet, warmth
and chill and will in time rise from her languorous slumber to welcome Winter again. ♥ #38 . It drifts in slow sheets as I watch from the darkened window with
the blinds pulled back uniting my upstairs world with
the wet trees and gleaming sidewalks just below my fingertips. ♥ WINTER #39 . I wake at the soft push on the corners of my mind and then, shocked to see
Shiloh asleep at my shoulder, since I assumed the pull as I slept was from him. I lift my head further from the pillow, he doesn't
wake as he usually does ! there's no extra light along our line of vision, even the mountains are hid, choosing
to cloak themselves in the mists that trail from the fingers of GOD. ♥ #40 . It catches me off
guard for I was busy doing things of value while I kept
my back to the window but it was sunny when I walked in and sat down. Perhaps I should have left the window open slightly
so I could sense the changes that twist and tease with the closing days of
winter? But it caught me off guard for i was busy doing other things of value to me while I kept my back to the windows. ♥ #41 . The gift of tears
striven from the louds~ along with the promise they will
rise only to fall again? Again and again far from the flames of the Phoenix. ♥ #42 . Thunder
and lightening warn me catching my attention I look across the street at the lights shedding tears and it is only when I hear the casual thump of droplets off the air conditioner
poised on the floor above that I am lured from my comfortable cave of warmth and purpose and I'm glad that it persisted because I live
out-of-step with the larger world outside my window but
I am linked by the nearness of the raindrops between them and me. ♥ #43 . People have personality
and natural colors, varieties in strength and hue, I muse,
as I watch the people below my apartment window walking comfortably, shouldering aside the winds and rain drops as if they weren't even there, remembering California where umbrellas sprang up like mushrooms at the first hint of dampness from the grimly hued skies, where rain was a personal enemy. to be avoided at all costs, I watch and wonder,
glad that I'm here now where rain ranks higher
than snow or ice except on the ski slopes. ♥ #44 . Faster than a heartbeat it trips and slides
in my path coaxing me to run and avoid them, to light up my face and hold out my arms wide to dance in a circle,
as I did as a child, and ye, in graciousness, they don't shun me, and the old woman with a walker I have become. Perhaps because they see the broadening smile
as they fall from afar at the slow moving target I have become? ♥ #45 . It's sheer indulgence that doesn't cost me anything extra. Mother Nature's tender apology for the distraction of thunder or days too sweaty and hot to move. Maybe I should have been born a duck! ♥ #46 . The rain embraces the spaces contained within my mind when higher functions aren't required for surrender- and sometimes
when they are! ♥ #47 . It seeps into my dreams as I sleep as the cold peels back the layers of warmth and
blankets to make room. It seals me into a cozy world of my own design adding a layer of graciousness to the simple cup of coffee I sip. ♥ #48 . The snow piles up then changes its mind and turns to rain on days I don't even have to leave the house- I am oddly more aware of what
is pursuing the void of empty sky left behind by winter! ♥ 49. . It's raining on the televsion show It's raining outside my window as well, and I smile. While the thunder from
the mountain loudly proclaims its superiroity by its roar, there is thunder on "Survivor" as well, and I smile. A little too heady to be the coincidence it attempts
to maintain! ♥ #50 . It drifts whisper soft clinging to whatever surface will slow its descent and I drift deeper
into pleasant reverie watching the streaks gaining strength as
they sslide down the dusty pane cleaansing the air and it as well all the while refreshing me! ♥ #51 .I miss hearing
the delicious shiver of the remaining leaves now washed
and petted by the recent spate of raindrops as if in preparation for the voyage to the ground postponed from Autumn's earlier chill. It seems odd, I muse, as I turn back to watch
the graceful descent of bits of the sky that the programs
on my television at night are coming to an end, just as
Spring nears! ♥ #52 . The sight of rain on my window pane surprises me confirmed by the shine on the reflective sidewalks and streets below my apartment window and I break
away with difficulty to return to the task at hand . Though
I turn my back to the window the image remains with me,
haunting the pause between thoughts, staying close
to me like a contented lover sated with our time together as spring draws near to return the cycle. . A.R. Koheen |
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Asia Rachael Cohen
Other Novels and Poetry by A. R. Koheen
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