Spring Rain

A gray curtain of falling rain feeds the thirsty trees,
greening leaf by leaf in the early spring afternoon

The ground is littered with dogwood blossoms
as the suckling buds are pelted by the storm

Oblivious to the deluge and with no umbrella in hand,
Squirrels play tag in the yard, scampering to and fro

Occasional rolls of thunder interrupt the hypnotic melody
of raindrops on the tin porch roof

I’m lulled into a peaceful sense of timeless beauty,
these same droplets likely having nurtured the heroes of old

Winter into spring, the constant dance of the seasons
Perhaps not so much death and rebirth, as cycles of living evolution


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