There is a beautiful soft rain this morning, complete with lightning and rumbling thunder. The house is dark for all the heavy clouds, even though the sun came up hours ago. The glow from the nightstands lamp is creating a cozy circle of golden light, and the house is quiet--save for the parakeet chirping, chirping, chirping in the dining room downstairs. I remember a poem I memorized in the first grade. It is a poem that I cannot forget because of how seriously I took my role in reciting it all those 50-odd years back. It goes; I love the day that wakes with rain, spattering drops on my windowpane, wind that spanks through thirsty trees, a wild little summers breeze! Its the first thing that pops in my head when I wake to rain. I imagine it will be the thing I recite in my old age, when everything else is lost to me. My great grandchildren will ask, Why does grannie always talk about how much she loves the rain?
Posted on: Sat, 07 Jun 2014 13:16:35 +0000
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