“The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent indifference of nature for the tangled passions of humans.” ~ Sherwood Smith

Untitled (1991, oil on photograph) by Gerhard Richter

Untitled (1991, oil on photograph)
by Gerhard Richter

                    

Two for Tuesday: Rain

Rain on Tin

If I ever get over the bodies of women, I am going to think of the rain,
of waiting under the eaves of an old house
at that moment
when it takes a form like fog.
It makes the mountain vanish.
Then the smell of rain, which is the smell of the earth a plow turns up,
only condensed and refined.
Almost fifty years since thunder rolled
and the nerves woke like secret agents under the skin.
Brazil is where I wanted to live.
The border is not far from here.
Lonely and grateful would be my way to end,
and something for the pain please,
a little purity to sand the rough edges,
a slow downpour from the Dark Ages,
a drizzle from the Pleistocene.
As I dream of the rain’s long body,
I will eliminate from mind all the qualities that rain deletes
and then I will be primed to study rain’s power,
the first drops lightly hallowing,
but now and again a great gallop of the horse of rain
or an explosion of orange-green light.
A simple radiance, it requires no discipline.
Before I knew women, I knew the lonely pleasures of rain.
The mist and then the clearing.
I will listen where the lightning thrills the rooster up a willow,
and my whole life flowing
until I have no choice, only the rain,
and I step into it.

~ Rodney Jones

                   

Gustave Caillebotte THe Yerres, Rain, oil on canvas 1875

“The Yerres, Rain” (1875, oil on canvas)
by Gustave Caillebotte

The Rain

All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quite, persistent rain.

What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often?  Is it

that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me

something other than this,
something not so insistent—
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.

Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out

of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.

~ Robert Creeley

                   

Music by Hunter Hayes, “Rainy Season”

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2 thoughts on ““The only noise now was the rain, pattering softly with the magnificent indifference of nature for the tangled passions of humans.” ~ Sherwood Smith

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