Rain

Rain comes down
Coolish-soft
Through soupy air
Taps the windows
And our persistence
In believing ourselves safe.

Drops decorate my arms
Mingle with sweat
Wash off my soap spray
Before it kills the insects
Eating the buddleia
I planted for hummingbirds.

Gnarled half-dead tree
Basks in thunder
Its hollows glistening
With rain and birdsong
As a young hummingbird
Lights on a bare twig.

No one knows
The heart of a tree
That makes room for nests
Tiny paws and beaks alike
As it bears forth lives
In open strength.

We too are background
Known well only to each other
With our hollows and scars
Collected as we bore life
Into time we may not know
Washed grey in the rain.

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About janemwoodman

Singer, writer, restaurant reviewer, urban farmer, devoted lover of my husband....old and getting happier all the time.
This entry was posted in Birds and Other Joys, Free verse, love, Philosophy, Poetry, Summer. Bookmark the permalink.

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