MANIC MONDAY
suggests
SHOWER
SHORT SHARP SHOWER!
Thunder departing;
Rolling back toward the shrouded mountains.
There, the rain still falls.
Like a retreating army, drums beating,
The sound wains and wains,
Finally waining goodbye,
To bunker down
Beyond the mountains.
Plants,
Which were beaten into submission
By the wild rain,
Lift their heads.
Not so long ago they were wilting
In the heat,
Petals browning,
Leaves shriveling
Stamens bent and listless.
Then came the first brutal drops.
Flower-heads were knocked sideways,
Jerking back
Only to be struck again.
This was no Floral Dance;
There was no swaying in unison,
Bending to a grand design
Or lifting faces to the rain.
This was a rout,
A defeat,
A jerky,
Branch-bashing assault.
Surely they could not survive!
But... miracle!
Already they lift their heads,
Beaded and shimmering.
Life has become tropical.
Imaginary palm-trees sprout before our eyes.
The air is humid.
Our little garden
Has moved to the Equator!
Are we inside, viewing it?
Are we outside, breathing it?
Very soon this will be
Just another fresh, green suburban garden,
With flowers bobbing neatly in a row.
But, for a while,
Let us enjoy
The sultry, surreal sensation
That follows the shower.
A more disastrous storm here:
http://rinklyrimes.blogspot.com/2008/08/100-tree-in-chains.html
