Suspended Rain

Suspended Rain
by Gideon Burton

Unevenly, perhaps, but in the wet

of darkened summers comes a thrumming beat

beneath the evening crickets–not a threat,

a coming nearer, as though heavy feet

would stamp the moistened petals, shred the air

with thunder breaking, dying on the hills

beyond our vision and beyond repair.

And yet it balks, it falters, loses will,

exhales innocuous in pattered drops

to tickle sidewalks, freshen flowers full.

We'd hoped to feel the rushing without stop,

the charging of a hundred hungry bulls.    
     Bring back to me the edge of summer rain,

     each cloud a liquid martyr, bleeding, slain. 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License. Feel free to copy, imitate, remix, or redistribute this poem as long as you give proper acknowledgment of authorship. Photo: flickr - Voyageur Solitaire-mladjenovic_n