XI: The Curse of Rain#
The rainy days, so slandered, weep
As haughty summer lovers lay
And mock the sky with lazy sleep,
While clouds so white with dreams of gray,
With sun they soak and whirling sweep
In hidden furies’ winded spray.
Each time it rains, the rivers splay,
And surge with purging currents swift,
What lays on shore is swept away
Through undertow then set adrift
To reach again where edge gives way
To core laid bare through ancient rift.
The heat was shaped with holy bliss,
While cold finds form in shattered fall,
The tracks of arcs that never miss,
The purpose found in roaring squall,
To hurl in spite of stolen kiss,
To seed with life this earthen sprawl.
No forest sprite nor sun born sprout,
Can know the course of water’s fate,
To craft and make then cease the drought,
And hear its name with venom hate
In curses made by summer’s clout,
And so it cries at heaven’s gate.
April 2025
Date |
Publication |
Status |
|---|---|---|
April 27, 2025 |
Frontier Poetry |
Pending |
May 10, 2025 |
North Appalachia Review |
Pending |