Rain = Poetry

We had a crazy rainstorm this afternoon, and as I ran across the parking lot to my car after work, this poem tapped its fingers on my brain. I’m no poet. That honor belongs to my Nana. But I offer up this little verse anyway. Call it a gift — one to inspire all of you more talented poets to listen for tapping fingers.


Rain sings down around me;
I hear your dancing feet
On warmer, dryer pavement
Through colorful, faraway streets.

Rain sings down around me;
I see your laughing eyes
With stories weaved like fairytales
Or a scoundrel’s alibis.

Rain sings down around me;
I know this tune so well!
While robins wait for drowning worms
I feel the music swell.