Poetry Rehab 101, hosted by Andy Townend
“Stillness Within Rain”
Rain begins slowly, faint drizzle,
as though arising from the ground, not
falling from the sky, whose clouds are
so high above that one would not
connect them with what happens now
so far below.
Standing awestruck in these warm
and heavy drops falling, a huge
thick shower stretching to my face
and feet from showerheads as far
above me as, now quite cold, the edge
of space itself, a shower sent by
the Spirit of Space, of Earth, of All,
to wash me and the whole earth
Clean. Refreshed. Renewed.
The rain ends as the sun appears
to warm the ground and that sweet
breeze that gently dries the grass
and flowers and trees, rain-heavy air
and me. Light and fluffy breezes
like soft scraps of towel, feeling
on my skin just slightly reminiscent
of that first soft, gentle, loving
kiss of rain.
Copyright © 2015-10-21, by Liz Bennefeld.
All rights reserved.
I have lovely memories of rain from my earliest years. Living on the northwestern edge of town, we in our house bore the brunt of the rainstorms. Our double lot, which just prior to my parents’ purchase of the land on which to build their house, was a horse pasture, was festooned with gigantic cottonwood trees that swayed in the winds, while rain and hail and sometimes ice ripped at them. And, once in a while, lightning would strike a tree, cutting the bark to within ten feet of the ground.
And yet there was nothing I liked more than to sneak out of the house, when I was a young child, and head for the nearest pasture, the nearest hill, so that I could watch the cells march toward me, seeing the rain begin to drop from the clouds as they moved closer, until the downfall was a veritable wall of water. And then, if the storm were particularly violent, I would run as fast as I could to try to get home before the leading edge got to me. If it wasn’t, I’d just stand or sit at the top of the hill and luxuriate in the feeling of the rain until the storm came to its end, moved on, or was cold enough that I had to go home anyway.