Come down, down, down.
Play follow the leader
until liter after liter
burnishes the field
and soaks my soul.
Rain, acquiesce to gravity.
Give in to the thirst
of earthen wear.
Don’t ever stop
in mid-air.
Play upon our gutters
and splay the timpani
white noise through
the gaping window.
Seize and distill.
Peace-drops, keep descending,
cleansing like a prayer.
Be our confessions,
our kneeling grace
and gratitude to God.
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Perfectly captured today!
and its still coming down over here!
And wash away earth’s stain as confession washes away our stain (or should it be pain?)
Stain
Pain
There are parallels there.
Rain, acquiesce to gravity.
Give in to the thirst
of earthen wear.
Don’t ever stop
in mid-air.
This verse conjured up images that went in a very different direction. Rain that stops mid-air is rain that eventually makes it down – the more often it stops “in mid-air” the greater the white havoc and destruction it causes. Hail, unlike snow in the wrong season, water in the least helpful form.
Meanwhile we’re in our worst drought in 25 years and only seeing a ‘teasing’ of rain.
I love it when poetry takes off in a different direction for the reader! Prayers for rain Jasper!
Gerald the Writer 
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