brings with it the scent of rain-soaked lilac, lemon lily. Bruised
skirts of thunderclouds drop their wet hems over this prairie. It rains
and the ditches brim, rains
and the water rises like ire amongst the willows.
What we say and do not say. The heart
incandescent, riverine with distance.
lilt like this: sound
of droplets from leaves
gift gift gift
It’s days like this that I truly appreciate the internet. I read Jenna Butler the first time over at Thethe Poetry. Scroll through their Poem of the Week, and Poetry Fix sidebars sometime — you’ll find some gems.
This particular piece is ethereal, luscious. It forces me to recall the beauty I reluctantly acknowledged while residing on the southwestern plains. Beauty I was sure couldn’t exist.
This Rain, the tone and imagery within, inspires the poet heart to believe every landscape, every day is important. I just have to keep looking, and be willing to learn from the worst days, to revere the best.