Pagosa Springs Artists



Plop, plop.
I hear raindrops
pitter-pat.   Tat-a-tat
staccato drums at my rooftop.
Tap,  tap.

Soft smells
as raindrops fell
wafted earthy,  grassy.
Aromas rose, tickled my nose...

Rain in
streaks of silver
curtain off  the misty hills.
sheets of gray bounce a rebound spray.
Blue day.

Tongue out
to taste the rain...
cold and clean, spattering.
Driving, falling, quenching, drenching.
Cold, clean.

drum on my skin,
then stick my shirt to me.
Pull at my pants-- to slump at the knee.
Oh, rain!


first published in Nomad’s Choir

also published in FLOOR OF THE SKY Chapbook

©2002 Bonnie Manion


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