It rained, little guy slept long, I wrapped gifts, did housework and watched/listened to this movie...so good!
When it rains its gray tinsel unchains
Rivers of rushing refrain
Stripped treetops lie, not against the sky
But in puddles on the lane
Its madrigal weeps from echo-laden deeps
And rouses soul-poetry
For the pen is a Muse filled with yesterday’s blues
Stirred by the air’s broken sea
When it rains thought roves a terrain
That nobody else can see
It opens a door through which mind-pictures pour
Painted on memory
And there on its street pool thought-years bittersweet
Drenching both faces and sod
Rending the heart with love’s mosaic art
Spilling in patterns from God
When it rains earth accepts heaven’s strains
As if they were azure –gold hymns
The trees on the lane never balk or complain
But stretch wide their four-season limbs
Embracing the song as it drips, low and long
Oh, could it be that they know
when this song dies and slips soft from the skies
The sun will be sweeter somehow?
© Janet Martin
'they' are forecasting gray songs until at least Friday...
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Thank-you for stopping by my porch! I hope you were blessed!