we knew it would rain
waking almost morning
opening the door
stepping out half dark
hoping for the last of night cool
on my skin, but instead
the world breathed warm
alive with mist
too close for stars
we knew it would rain
when day came and mist
pulled thin across the sky
until the sun singed
the unravelling edges
of the world and we
waded through the morning heat
water bucket, hay,
ducklings to the pond –
all of life seeking shelter
and shade and cool
until the doing was done
and we could slip silent into forest
among the quiet and dappling,
among the unstirring leaves.
we knew it would rain
mid afternoon
when the sky tilted a breeze
ocean pushed and
rushing through the valleys –
opening doors and windows
to let it rush through
across warm wood –
if not cooling then stirring at least.
we knew it would rain
early evening drinking tea
at the long table watching
the sky gather on the horizon –
darken , clot
purple and heavy and close –
said quick before the rain
and sat some more and finished our tea.
by the time we put the beet on to soak
the first drops were falling,
evaporating on contact
but falling falling
now we rushed –
my youngest and i
alone for a bit,
divvying up the tasks
between us,
calling goats in,
hurrying mother hens and horses,
covering bales.
closing doors and gates
under a sky that has now broken
in two and is pouring rain –
blessed rain in sheets thick and warm
full in our faces –
until drenched and drenched again
we meet up mid rush
only to laugh at the thunder crack sky
and each other soaked skinless
dripping hair plastered down our backs
stuck to our cheeks
entangled with petal and leaf.
mud smeared feet stemming the flow
of silt water ankle deep down the drive –
pulling up stepping stones from rain gulleys
with rain running rivulets down spines
trying to shape the flow, guiding water
away from the house to contour ponds
and overflows and soak aways
and all the while the rain that fell
and falls and falls
calls us to be here
alive and bellowing skin prayers –
our voices nothing to the song of frogs,
the silence of wings
and the rain that came
that comes
giving life.
inside we strip off wet clothes for dry
twist hair up in towels
loud laugh mop floors and wring and mop again
where our coming and going had created
inadvertant floods
make supper, chatter, eat
blood flowing strong rivers in our veins
the stream, become river, in the valley roaring too.
night will come quiet
with long soaking rain,
gentle now
like a sigh.
Fir Brendan at Earthweal’s weekly challenge: A COMMONS FOR ALL. Read more about it here.
https://earthweal.com/2023/02/13/a-commons-for-all/
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