I was in Portland, Oregon sitting outside at a little sidewalk café. It had a very large umbrella, thankfully. Seemingly out of nowhere it started to pour rain. I observed people scurrying around. I also was, as the poem says, caught without any rain gear. Then another day I was at home, it was raining and I watched my trees in the backyard. Those two experiences have been combined to make one poem. Spring Rain Caught in spring rain
without Wellingtons,
without an umbrella,
without a raincoat.
Rain on my face.
Rain on my clothes.
Rain-soaked hair.
The smell of the grasses,
the glistening of the leaves,
Lizards scurry to hide,
only to reemerge
when the sun appears.
The wind that precedes the rain
coaxes swiftly moving clouds
as they change from
white to grey,
to the darkest of steel
Mesmerized
into a trance-like state
I observe palm fronds sway,
then dip and bend in the breeze.
Invisible gusts shudder the
branches.
Butterfly palms brush the sand
back and forth,
back and forth
tracing wispy, feather-like
patterns.
Raindrops imprint
tiny circles in the sand
and nurture the flowers
trees, bushes and grasses
into full bloom and blossom. ©️KaZ Akers. Website: www.kazakers.com Book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/8182537479 New Book coming this summer: Drink Nature ©️ KaZ Akers
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