Rain

The rain falls silently,

Moistens the leaves of trees,

Shakes the leaves to hear their secrets,

Washes the leaves clean of the day’s dust,

Then rolls off the leaves

To find a more comfortable bed

In the earth.

 

The rain falls silently,

Gently covers the road with water,

Makes car tires sigh with loneliness,

And changes the road into a scrying glass,

Washes the mud of frustration off the road,

Then runs away down drainpipes

With a laugh.

 

The rain always falls silently

Over heads weary with frustration,

Into hearts stained with hurt and delusion,

Over hands soiled with pain and strife,

Into souls lost in the labyrinth of living.

 

The rain washes away the pain and hurt,

Heals the broken heart,

Makes the path a little clearer;

In the morning, the grass is a little greener,

The day is fresh and clean,

Like a bedsheet, washed in clear cold water,

And dried on the line, in the sun and wind,

Crisp and sweet.

In the Night

In the night

Silence muffles the sound of sleeping feet,

Up and down the carpeted hallway

Of sleepless wanderers

And restless dreamers

 

In the night,

Ice crunches under sleeping boots,

Porches smoke with a million wandering thoughts,

And eyes, bloodshot and weary,

Search the sky for signs and lights.

 

In the night,

Doors echo hollowly

The sounds of yesterday’s revelry,

Tell the tales of countless passings to and fro,

The endless doings of days

Now ended

 

In the night,

Stillness like a crisp blanket

Keeps its watch ‘til daylight comes,

‘til the sun in red-faced glory

Creeps his way over houses and trees

To warm the tips of noses with the blush of sunrise.