After Summer Rain

Today's poem, based on an early memory, could easily have been the title poem in my first published collection, Chance of Rain (Finishing Line Press, 2003). Instead, it quietly took its place among the others.

"After Summer Rain," with its starring character, a tiny bug swimming in a laundry tub which had filled with rain water, did become the inspiration for the cover illustration, designed by my son, Alan.

In the poem itself, I like what's happening ... the relationship between this tiny bug, which has suddenly appeared, and this "young man" who is drawn to it, pondering "what it might become, where it might go," questions he had barely asked himself.

Selection of a title poem, in the instance of this first collection, seemed obvious to me, albeit with overtones of designating a favorite child. That honor had to go to "Chance of Rain, my "lucky poem."

Regular readers of my online journal, my home page, or my free e-mailed weekly newsletter ("Squiggles & Giggles," remember? And it went only to those who had asked to receive it ... but, sorry, AOL put a stop to S&G, adventures of The Little Red Car, etc.) ... well, these people know that story about eight lines being discovered in the middle of a longer poem when an alert editor at Capper's spotted them, liked them, suggested that we keep them and my title.

I quickly agreed, and "Chance of Rain" became my first poem accepted for publication. Thus began this great adventure.

But today I'd like to share that other poem:

AFTER SUMMER RAIN

When the storm passed

and the sediment settled

in the tub so recently

sitting empty beneath

the downspout, a tiny bug,

exploring its new world,

memorizing the boundaries,

looking for others,

or savoring the solitude

of this galvanized galaxy,

swam to and fro,

oblivious of the young man

pausing to watch,

puzzled over its sudden

coming to be there,

pondering what it might

become, where it might go,

doubly perplexing because

he had barely posed such

questions about himself.

© 1998

(originally published in Midwest Poetry Review)

***

Today's word: exploring

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:

Oh, thank you, Helen, for those observations ... I think, however, as I often say ... so much depends on what the reader brings to the poem. I was particularly taken by your noting that you had read "After Summer Rain" several times ... and had found new images, new thoughts with each reading. That speaks so much to your ability to let the poem draw you into its meaning, to let it paint new pictures with each visit ... and it says so much more of the reader ... in a very positive way ... than of the person who wrote the poem, I think.

I do try to avoid inducing whiplash with sudden turns, Magran, but I do like an occasional introduction of an unexpected element. It helps to keep the read pressing on, looking for what lurks beyond the next turn. And I like your own image of that wooden half-barrel, too.