The Skies Storm:
Rain falls from the sky.
It drips through the trees, settles on the grass and collecting in little pools.
Onto my face, cold beads of water like parachuters landing agilely on soft ground.
The chill seeps through the thin poncho layer, ghosts passing through a lemon-yellow wall.
Through the down coat.
Through the t-shirt and jeans.
To me.
Why must it rain, I ponder, on a bench beneath a weeping willow.
Its arching branches with leaves in neat rows on them reminds me of a childhood rhyme:
Here's a leaf, and now sphagetti.
Pull the leaves off- you've got confetti!
We used to pull the leaves off and declare the branch pasta, then throw the leaves in the air.
So why are the weeping willow's leaves so cheerful when the name so morbid?
It's one of nature's finest mysteries.
And the rain. Why must the heavens cry?
If heaven is the happiest place on earth, what must cause so sorrow to the most cheerful place?
It is not my problems to deal out, but rather those above.
The skies storm.
And thunder.
A fight must be happening. A grand one that will be remembered.
It sends chaos below to the human world.
Broken lines.
Terror.
Dogs howling.
Death.
And yet I perch on a bench in the park.
Lonely, yet not afraid.
Storming rages in my ears.
My goose bumps are close to bursting.
Hair prickling.
The chill penetrates everything.
Everyone.
Permeating the sorrow, loss, and misfortune.
Oh, it is the rain.
Rain- Haiku:
The rain is wet.
The rain collects in puddles.
Makes the everyone cold.
YOU ARE READING
Rain: Stories and Poems
PoetryEver wonder about rain? How other people think of it? A non-scientific explanation will solve all you problems. Please also comment/vote!!!!!
