This is the way
I want to sing,
the way rain does
as it pummels the house,
scouring the gutters—
no way to ignore it
as it batters the rooftop,
the windows, the porch.
I want to sing
that ferocious, that
untamable, true as rain
which touches everything, everything,
even reaches inside
with its deep gray scent,
O great tides of it
changing the landscape,
rearranging the hillsides,
finding the roots—
a song of change right now
and change sure to come.
Is that title a reference to an old movie? How interesting that I have been trying to wrestle a rain poem into existence starting with the line, The cloud choir sings… How lovely that you have caught that image of its scent after noticing how it touches everything. Ah, the rain inspires all of life.