Rain patters on windows
Wind blows through branches
Leaves brush against windows
Rhythm and beats merge into song
Rainstorm makes music on windows
Now waiting for crickets to join the sound
Rain comes down
Already soaked ground,
Making puddles bigger
And grass squisher then before
So to look like a swamp instead.
Will the rain ever let up today?
Maybe so, or perhaps tomorrow now?
These days are filled with humid temps
Air hot ready to bake anyone who comes
Outside to turn them an overdone cookie
From the raging sun beaming down
Land begins to beg mother nature
For just a drink of rain water
But their voices are parched and dry
So she cannot hear them at all
Then without warning one day
Dark clouds come to deliver
The much need rain to all below
What joy fills my heart to know the rains I carry quench your banks
When I stop by loaded, brimming fat with rain to pour down somewhere
I chose to stop by you, river, for I enjoy seeing your twinkling water
And the gushing it makes when I pour the rain down upon you
Sometimes I pour too much and your banks overflow,
I am sorry to give you too much sometimes
But I must relieve the tension from inside of me
For when I fill with rain I can become moody
I know I have traveled far and wide, from one side to the other
I have seen many things that you can only dream about
But somethings I have seen which makes my heart break
Like landscapes once filled with forests and rivers which have disappear forever
Under the human machines which run rampant across the land
But let us not dwell upon such sad and miserable tales
I will tell you of other adventures that you so crave
You are lucky to be here my friend, for you are far remove from the rest
Be content to stay your coursing banks and wrap around the hills
You make me laugh whenever I come by, whether I am white or gray
I am glad the air can take some of your water,
Evaporate it and let me suck into my cushion storage for another water source to use
I enjoy following your winding course as I say good bye
Until we met again here is a little rain water from a passing friend
Click here to view the letter from river to the cloud
Don’t know what nature
Is cooking up this strange season.
Day 11 for April poem: A fibonacci, or a “fib” has nothing to do with truth or lies. It is a poem based on the fibonacci sequence in math: the number of syllables in each line of the poem is the sum of the previous two lines: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8 …. Try writing a six-line fibbonaci, for a total of 20 syllables.
A snow rain rides through town
Making it hard to see
As we drive through to our destination.
Coming down wet and slick
It will surely change to only snow later
As temps began to fall so slowly
Throughout a winter day.
Rain droplets on branch twinkle their sacs of water
As they hang out on bare winter branches
Waiting for their turn to fall with a splat
To soak the muddy ground with pools of water
Held in a clear view sac with one touch
Would break apart spilling water all over.