It is not yet dawn,
but still, I awaken
to the soft patter
of nighttime summer rain.
Gently it falls,
the warm breeze
ruffles the trees.
Branches caress my window,
reminiscent of some nightmare
now long gone.
Startling at first,
the rustle of branched fingers
soon melds with the soft drizzle.
Soothing and tender,
Nature’s melodies lull me
back to sleep.
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 6:34 PM UTC
It is not yet dawn,
but still, I awaken
to the soft patter
of nighttime summer rain.
Gently it falls,
the warm breeze
ruffles the trees.
Branches caress my window,
reminiscent of some nightmare
now long gone.
Startling at first,
the rustle of branched fingers
soon melds with the soft drizzle.
Soothing and tender,
Nature’s melodies lull me
back to sleep.
Request permission to use this poem