XXXIII.

The Rain Was Ending, And Light 

by Laurence Binyon


The rain was ending, and light
Lifting the leaden skies.
It shone upon ceiling and floor
And dazzled a child's eyes.

Pale after fever, a captive
Apart from his schoolfellows,
He stood at the high room's window
With face to the pane pressed close,

And beheld an immense glory
Flooding with fire the drops
Spilled on miraculous leaves
Of the fresh green lime-tree tops.

Washed gravel glittered red
To a wall, and beyond it nine
Tall limes in the old inn yard
Rose over the tall inn sign.

And voices arose from beneath
Of boys from school set free,
Racing and chasing each other
With laughter and games and glee.

To the boy at the high room-window,
Gazing alone and apart,
There came a wish without reason,
A thought that shone through his heart.

I'll choose this moment and keep it,
He said to himself, for a vow,
To remember for ever and ever
As if it were always now.

Credit: Images:  chron.com

XXXII.

XVII.

"It is one of the secrets of Nature in its mood of mockery that 

fine weather lays heavier weight on the mind and hearts of the 

depressed and the inwardly tormented than does a really bad day 

with dark rain sniveling continuously and sympathetically from 

a dirty sky."  ~Muriel Spark

"Suddenly all the sky is hid

As with the shutting of a lid,

One by one great drops are falling

Doubtful and slow,

Down the pane they are crookedly crawling,

And the wind breathes low;

Slowly the circles widen on the river,

Widen and mingle, one and all;

Here and there the slenderer flowers shiver,

Struck by an icy rain-drop’s fall."

~James Russell Lowell, "Summer Storm," 1839

IV.

DROPS

Your name,

Like rain, 

trickles from my brain,

Dripping, 

the is faucet leaking,

far away, 

I hear it,

drop down a rusted drain.

I am falling,

abandoning hope,

I cannot resign,

from its sound.

Naked 

Whispering your name.

End my suffering,

I stand alone questioning;

All that I was,

and all that I am.

Lavender wafts,

through corridors,

from potpourri jars,

offering sleep

and relaxation.

The weary finds no relief;

through scent and sounds,

The slow, obnoxious,

drip,

through me,

hounds. 

I cannot pull the stop

incessant, 

relentless,

The rain echos drops

Endless drops.

 © "Raindrops" ~Denise Goodwin