Feb 21, 2011

a hard rain's gonna fall

the rumble is low and the heat is high
got a feeling that there's rain out in the oil black sky
feels her sweat in the ground and the burn in her nose
and the knowing in her gut something's still gonna grow
she ain't leaving til it does

It's the dry season here. The rain slowly tapers off, the humidity dies down. The weather gets more comfortable. Everything turns brown. The colors fade. The dust is worse.

We've gotten into a pattern. We don't put the buckets out all day in case the rain comes and we aren't home. We don't think about walking to dinner in the rain. We can go into the mountains and not worry about beating storms down or getting stuck as an alternative.

Things have ceased to grow. I have ceased to grow. My heart is dry and faded and worn.

Tonight, a change is beginning to come. I, in my stubborn nature, am resistant. I am complacent and don't want to move away from this rusty cage.

Two hard rains have fallen this week. And another one is brewing. Rain to wake me and shake me.

and after the storm,
i run and run as the rains come
and i look up.
on my knees and out of luck,
i look up.
you must know life to see decay.

1 comment:

  1. what I like about the dry season is the unpredictability. you never know what seeds have fallen and worked there way down into the soil, ready to sprout and surprise you once the rain comes along again. an empty patch may be ablaze with flowers when you least expect it.

    may your heart be the same. love you, beautiful girl.