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Downpour
Rain upon the air and ground beats that familiar
sound and with it silent hammers of thought.
The intense droplets of burden that steal and
distract the night.The anguish of day reflected
in the blackened puddles.Falling, falling do the
tears of battle.Falling is the emotional anvil
over many moments rinses the pain and dust.
Demons breathe out their windy brood scales,
tails, wings and hoods.Clapping streams of water
on the glass-agitated lovers in their bed,
turnsout that most enticing scene.The liquid
sheen lashing city and farm blinding all the
townies as they dart for cover.Drenches and
quenches thirsty soils in need, revives the
seeds, heaving wonders from the sky.
Commemoration of the dead coexist with fire
and mist.
poem
by
William Blackman
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