The explosion of ivory dogwood blossoms
sweetly assaults the eye.
The bird of the day is the mourning dove.
With their sweet relentless pecking.
I let out a sigh.
A hawk's in town today.
Why most birds have stayed away.
The perfume off spring rain arouses my soul.
Wet buds sweetly festering,
as another day I grow old.

Today the weather mirrored me—
gray thoughts hung low, heavy and wide.
I lay in bed, heard leaves brush secrets,
heard the wind howl what I hide.

I peeked through blinds, saw flooded walks,
rain pouring like it never ends.
A world soaked through in quiet grief,
no rush to break, no need to mend.

I stepped outside—my shoes went dark,
each step a soft and sinking sigh.
My hair, once dried from morning’s rinse,
now clung like truths I brushed aside.

Cold traced fingers down my neck,
the air was sharp, the silence loud.
But somehow, soaked and shivering,
it felt like standing in a crowd.

It hasn’t rained in far too long—
just like I haven’t cried for days.
But now the sky and I agree:
we flood in our own sacred ways.

Rustling, noisy, smashing leaves,
Rushing, tearing, howling breeze.
The wind wails low, and grass below
Rustles like a river’s flow.

Birds dart madly through the skies,
Beating wings with frantic cries.
Wide they spread to trap and keep
The breath of drafts that twist and sweep.

Nature stirs in wild parade,
Calling all to shift and fade.
Heavy drops fall through the haze,
Silver thunder, bloom and blaze.

Drumming raindrops crash and land,
Like a stormy marching band.
The world turns wild in roaring strain,
While children mutter: “Rain, rain, rain…

Go away,
Come again,
Another day…”

Then —
WHAM!
A hammer of rain smashes down,
A shriek, “Aaaaah!”, tears through the town.
Little feet scatter and slip on the ground,
As laughter and screams swirl all around.

Nature devours the space,
Drowning all other sounds.
It breaks through in roaring chase —
Until it all calms down.

25.04.2025

content:
the cool soft breeze caressing your hair
happiness:
the clear bright sunny sky
sadness:
the gentle rain dampening your skin
depression:
the pouring rain drenching your clothes
anger:
the scorching sun and whipping wind
rage:
the violent winds and tornado warnings

Last time when the dust turned blue
a new kind of rain erupted
like pellets bouncing off the ground
realizations poured over our heads
last time I laid flat on a road
and challenged the force of decisional wind
protesting the passage of time
swallowing images of mountain range
from the highest point in the city
last time I felt so dearly in love
with the color of the sky
with the way things go,
with the touch of new life
last time I got to know my own breathing
was when, just like this,
in seasonal change, fragments of old self
came to accompany on a journey
through a new day

in Sp
ring
when song
birds

sing joy
fully,
dying
is

dull
;but
fat worms
are ****

**** thunder
the
raindrops
f

alling & stain
ing the
side
walk,rin

sing off the chalk

There was a girl who danced in the rain.
No one understood her or cared for her pain.
She danced out in the puddles all alone.
No sun in sight, for it had set long ago.
She used the thunder booms to dampen her screams,
As she pondered through the pitter-patter, what everything means.
Sometimes the others would spray her with a hose,
Knocking her glasses off her nose.
They’d shatter,
Masked by the pitter-patter,
They’d laugh at her,
Since it didn’t matter to them.
She was going through a storm with winds like a hurricane.
All that the others saw was a girl going insane.
All that she wanted was someone to listen to her cries,
But all that anybody did when they looked her way was sigh.
She danced throughout the night,
The lightning lit up the sky.
She would have danced till the end of time,
If he hadn’t stepped into her life.
He took her hand,
Stopped her from spinning around.
The rain fades away from where they stand,
And she finally feels found.
The girl who danced in the rain,
Found a partner for her ballet.