Wet and warm

like a first real kiss,

her raindrops fall

in a heavy, steady, rhythmic

symphony of drum beats

on the canvas awning

above our mountaintop window,

 

rolling green hills

become a veiled dragon

sleepily watching

the rooftop patchwork

lazily bathing

as I sit quietly reveling

in this dousing

downfall of a

movable ocean,

 

April rain quenches

chartreuse shoots

and mud-born buds

as she soothes our

winter-weathered souls

with restorative moisture

carried far and long

over glacial scars

and endless plains,

 

wafting through

open windows

a welcome friend

with open arms

and cerebral ambiance,

generously lending us

her ancient sedation

while passing through

on her journey

to reunite

with the sky.

 

 

Renee Novosel

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