A Vision of Rain
Posted: Mon Oct 23, 2006 10:16 pm
A Vision of Rain
It burst a June storm last night.
I had to use a white rim-chipped
enamel bucket, which we
use for carrying orange-warm ashes
from the grate, to catch the rain
as it seeped through the ceiling,
gathering into glob-drops,
dripping into a rattling pail,
tapping out the slow movement of night.
. . . . . . .
We watched a TV documentary
on deaf poets.
I sat a rivet of attention
as she stood before her audience,
arms, fingers and hands a ballet in silence;
my stomach pranced to her vision of rain.
It burst a June storm last night.
I had to use a white rim-chipped
enamel bucket, which we
use for carrying orange-warm ashes
from the grate, to catch the rain
as it seeped through the ceiling,
gathering into glob-drops,
dripping into a rattling pail,
tapping out the slow movement of night.
. . . . . . .
We watched a TV documentary
on deaf poets.
I sat a rivet of attention
as she stood before her audience,
arms, fingers and hands a ballet in silence;
my stomach pranced to her vision of rain.