The Rain As It Comes Down
Oh, to be young, again
The Rain as it comes down
Pecks the window, where your tiny fingers grasp the sill
The sigh within my chest stops, abruptly
The dimpled smile on your tiny visage seizing my heart.
Oh, to be young again, and to see the Whole Wide Universe
For the opportunity it extends.
Cold, pelting, indigo rain
A drink, a birdbath, a river for boats crafted of leaves.
Rich, clumping, chocolate mud
A home for boot prints and pies, and earthworms the color of bubblegum.
Long, bristling, emerald grass
For picnics and daisy picking and crown weaving; plus bracelets and necklaces too.
Thick, hard, ebony tar
A wonderland for hopscotch, long bike rides, and pickup games of four square.
Delicate, fragrant, sunshine blossoms
Plucked by an angel’s fingers, the most fitting gift to convey admiration.
Oh, for me!
Yes, I am young again, and I see the Whole Wide Universe extending to me!
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Lanie Campbell and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli4 days ago in Poets
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.