by Gideon Burton
As often as the wetting skies descend,
massaging greening grasses, cooling air,
and bathing clean the atmosphere again;
so I will pause, and pausing will repair
my oversight of senses underfed:
how weighty water, incrementally
applied, forgets it is so densely spread;
how vapors spirit up from sidewalk seas;
how showers temper casually the skin
of afternoon, resolving minor chords
in major rays refracted by the thin
and misted mysteries that rain imports.
As often as the seasoning of earth,
so often wading wet in moistened mirth.
Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - MartyFM