It was a quiet, rainy evening, and I had been working at the computer in the attic (a place not as primitive as it may sound ... a finished attic space, carpeted, well-lighted ... I called it "my studio").
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 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:
to the pane,
early few drops
catching late light,
down the glass
of some loss
Or is it joy?
(originally published in The Christian Science Monitor; subsequently included in my first collection, Chance of Rain, Finishing Line Press, 2003)
Today's word: joy