Saturday, October 15, 2011


The rain falls sideways
borne on the back of the wind,
thrown like javelins, just as sharp.
the drops don't care
they tumble as they fall,

I wonder where it came from, how far it traveled,
if it came from a distant ocean or gulf.
Did it get to know the birds?
The wind currents
or a passing jet?

This rain,
this vertical freshet
will soak the hills, the ground, the gravel,
past the rocks and roots and bones and buried secrets.
It will come back to me, in a trout stream
to nurture fish and bugs
and creatures I know nothing of.

This rain, pelting my head
soaking my skin, will run off
and I wonder-
does it hold my scent
so that the trout will recognize me
when I touch the water?


  1. Beautiful! "Did it get to know the birds?" -- "does it hold my scent so that the trout will recognize me." Amazing lines, FR. This right here is that stream-of-consciousness you were wanting. Keep it turned on.

  2. Thanks Erin. Something about the stormy day got it going. I had to go right home and write it while I still had it in my head.

  3. Very moving...thanks for jotting down your thoughts. One way to enjoy a rainstorm is to find the beauty and wonderment in it!