Watercolor Rain

Rain droplets are spattered over the windowpanes, Dotting the gray skies behind them. The trees look extra green today. Vines cling extra closely to their brick wall beds.

The rain-kissed air sneaks through the cracks of the damp wood

And the old ventilation

And smells greener than usual,

As if the sky has just stepped out of a bath,

Perfumed in fresh earth,

Wrapped in flat clouds.

I watch as a mosquito dances

On the windowpane in the upper right corner.

Fruitlessly fighting for its way out.

Its legs are intricate,

Hard to follow.

They remind me of fingers,

Plucking a banjo.

The birds tweet a harmonica tune,

And flap like fiddles,

Flitting between

Trees

And telephone poles.

The roadways hum and glisten wet.

The soil breathes a mellow line.

Open doors creek in the morning breeze,

Which blows through open windows,

Shivers on the sills,

And ruffles damp curtains,

In harmonious rhythms.

Nature’s own bluegrass band.

I am whisked away:

***

To a back porch in the country.

I detect the faint smell

Of maple and blueberries,

Drifting from a yellow light in the kitchen.

***

To a soft meadow,

Swaying with tall grass.

Smelling the subtle, herbal smell

Of fresh heather.

Yellow with fervor.

Swirling above,

With heaps of storm clouds

Ready to burst.

***

To a cool mountain,

With rich, white fog

Ascending through the tops of thick firs

And dark pines.

I didn’t know air could breathe this raw.

I smell juniper and dusk;

Deep forest, velvet sky.

***

To a lively brook.

I pad softly

Over beds of vibrant green moss

That lead me to their coy life source,

Pattering thinly over flat stones and shiny logs.

Patches of lilies line the stream.

I wonder how their soft petals stand up

Against the heavy rain droplets

Pin-pricking from the sky,

Adding freshness.

***

Splotchy raindrops turn

To soft, steady showers.

Baptizing the earth

In clean new waters

That rain down,

Pool up,

Wash away.

It is not a threatening rain.

There is no thunder or blackness.

It is a kind rain,

A warm rain,

A refining rain,

That streams down the sidewalks,

And cleans man's prints away.

Rain. Rain.

Rain. Rain.

Fill me up.

Wash me away.

Rain. Rain.

Rain. Rain.

Make me forget.

Take me with away.

Wash me until my eyes run into my skin,

And my skin runs into the pour,

And I am a rainbow of watercolors,

Melting in the flood.

Distorted, abstract, and free.

Let me run through the ground,

And seep into the soil.

Let me be drunk into the roots

Of my favorite trees,

Running up their centers,

Carried through their vascular webs,

And spreading into leaves,

So that I can feel the sun

Photosynthesize me,

Bud me into petals,

Pollinate me.

So that I may soar on the wind.

Do what birds do.

See the sun.

Taste the sky.

Then,

Fall,

Fall,

Fall,

Through the sky,

To rest among the crumpled leaves,

Having breathed my beautiful last breath,

As I lie to die this colorful

Autumn death.