I lie on my back as the storm rages outside my darkening room

The rumble and clash of the pantheon’s percussion

Plays an unsteady beat through an electric atmosphere 

Children cower; birds take flight; the world quivers

But not me, for a new life is being born

I look deep into the pouring rain

Past the lightening bolts, beyond the trees, over the river and into the sky

Up into the roiling clouds I cast my mind and smile

As a trembling raindrop unfurls from the horde

Rolling from its cotton pillow it falls, and falls, and falls

Tumbling towards solidity

A tear created especially for me

Downwards it slides through intangible air

Faster and faster, sweeping the sky clean in its wake

I feel it nearing my home

Then, splat! 

I fear for my little friend, but I shouldn’t

He is gathering, rejoining his brethren

Becoming more than the sum of the parts

Cascading down roof tiles

Part of a torrent he sluices over the guttering

Hanging for a moment suspended in thin air

Before he and his ilk, fall

Down and down, tippling over and over 

A procession of hydro environmentalists

I listen to his and their sacrifice 

Giving their own lives to bring life to others

The flowers in my window-box bow solemly

I hear the pitter-patter of the rain on their petals

And wonder which was he?

3 thoughts on “Pitter-patter

  1. This is a great poem, beautiful description that creates an amazing image, a joy for the reader.
    I look forward to seeing more of your wonderful work. Regards. Angela.

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