It rained in the mountains last night.
The forest came alive, from the laurels and ferns
To the tops of oaks and maples 60 feet above.
And through it all, the whispering chatter of the stream,
Full of itself, full of energy, falls endlessly over
mossy rocks on its long journey to the sea.
You can feel the eagerness of everything, sense the tree
Roots grabbing harder, drinking deep, their tops waving the news in the wind.
Sunlight finds its way down through gaps
And flares on dancing leaves as it glints, sings silently
Of the joy of life reborn, of thirst quenched, of balance restored.
Seven kinds of birds sound their challenges,
Race through the canopy harvesting food
For pinfeathered chicks urgently waiting in shadows.
I come here when my heart is dry, to feel the moment.
I come here after the rain to sink my roots in, too,
And soak up the voices of the Earth, of the birds, of the sun and wind singing.
6 Replies to “When My Heart is Dry”
Lovely poem. I love your images of rocks and rain, of wood and stream, and of our rootedness in the earth amid the renewal of spring showers. No matter what life sends my way, time in nature brings me healing…thank you for giving me a few moments in it! Jo
Thanks for posting. Just as beautiful the second time around.
The imagery of refreshing your soul as nature is refreshed by rain is wonderful. I would like to invite you again to post at the Salon tomorrow.
It would be my pleasure.
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Thank you. I told a friend today that I’m pretty busy writing these days, after decades as a wage slave. And that for the first time ever I was working for myself. It feels good. 🙂
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