It was a quiet, rainy evening, and I had been working at the computer in the attic (not as primitive as it may sound ... it's a finished attic space, carpeted, well-lighted ... I also call it "my studio" now).
I leaned back in my chair ... trying to decide whether to tackle just one more task ... or call it a day.
It was then I noticed that a gentle rain had begun. I could see the tiny droplets speckling the skylight, gathering, beginning to trickle down the slope.
Something about that scene brought the word "weeping" to mind. I just had to write that phrase down. There followed others ... the thought that rain sometimes is sometimes soothing, but that it can also elicit feelings of loneliness.
The poem started out in the direction of loneliness, sadness, but took a rather abrupt turn at the end with the question: "Or is it joy?" ... and my implied answer then was definitely in the direction of joy. It still is. Most definitely. Joy.
Now, the poem:
GENTLY FALLING
The rain
comes weeping
to the pane,
early few drops
catching late light,
pearly beads
trickling
down the glass
in remembrance
of some loss
long forgotten.
Or is it joy?
© 1997, 2003
(originally published in The Christian Science Monitor; subsequently included in my first published collection, Chance of Rain, Finishing Line Press, 2003)
Today's word: joy
1 comment:
I've been playing catch-up with your beautiful poetry and your Chosen Words. I love them both--each poem and what you've written leading up to them. You paint such clear/misty pictures. I love trains and loved that poem. I always wondered when I rode on a train at night and saw the occaisional houses with their lights and wonder if the people in them knew I was looking at them and wondering about them. Thanks for all you put on this site. It stirs up new and old thoughts and feelings.
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