I feel it in my bones hours before the first drop when the sky floods gray and heavy, my knees scream my back aches and my hair becomes a web of straw clinging to my head…my thought process grows sluggish…and I think the very best I can manage is a nap, a very long nap in fact wake me up come spring when the rain is sweet and cool not this bone-chilling deluge that drenches fallen leaves grinding them into loam tree limbs overhead stripped bare, unable to shade the carnage below oh that it would snow, this season in between has lost its charm the letting go, the letting go… to death…I feel it in my bones
to dance in the rain cool droplets bursting on skin pools lapping our feet drawing us deep into the one we call mother…we call home
come dance in the rain drenched in heaven, head to toe blood of stone rising familiar scent of the earth calling us…calling us home
dancing in the rain our feet cool and tingling letting go at last like autumn leaves twirling ‘round ashes, ashes, falling down
~kat
In case you’re wondering…yes I did. I did dance in the rain this morning. Yes, I got drenched. It was glorious! Peace to you this weekend. Praying for peace. 🕊️
how odd it feels this dark drear night as sheets of rain and milky fog obscure my sight while puddles swell earth waterlogged from outer bands that sweep the sky a monster with a single eye, a tempest wielding misery over a thousand miles, its bitter tears from too warm seas brings half a nation to its knees odd, i think, to taste the rain that's caused such pain to neighbors i will never meet terribly connected, we, and yet so far, so very far away
~kat
This poem was birthed in the foothills of Bramlette Mountain at dusk on the 30th of September 2022 as the outer bands of Hurricane Ian bent the pines and drenched the loam while simultaneously making landfall several states away on the South Carolina coast. We humans truly are a wrinkle, a mere blip on the vast landscape of this earth. Who are we to boast of anything at all when a raindrop can render us small?
oh how i love an almost rain the wind rushed trees, the sky, dark gray the scent of damp green it’s all quite a scene of extremes, sunlit haze
~kat
Clogyrnach Poems
More on rain, because, well, it’s been particularly soggy here in the foothills this spring. And i’m continuing to practice the Clogyrnach.
This Welsh poetic form is typically a six-line syllabic stanza with an ab rhyme scheme:
Line 1: 8 syllables with an a rhyme Line 2: 8 syllables with an a rhyme Line 3: 5 syllables with a b rhyme Line 4: 5 syllables with a b rhyme Line 5: 3 syllables with a b rhyme Line 6: 3 syllables with an a rhyme
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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