waking to rain
what is driest in me
reshapes itself
into a beggar’s bowl
puts itself in my hands
May 12, 2020 by Rosemerry
waking to rain
what is driest in me
reshapes itself
into a beggar’s bowl
puts itself in my hands
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged drought, rain, thirst | 4 Comments
“walking _to_ rain”? I’m wondering if you meant, “walking _in/through_ rain.”
I do love this poem’s imagery. The recursion of what’s “driest in [you],” putting “itself in [your] hands”.
And hasn’t the rains been lovely? (During his Zoom workshop, yesterday, Craig had head inside, due to the returning rain.)
waking! oh whew, just checked, yes, it says waking. something funny though about it, the eyes really want to see walking. And yes, the rain was soooo welcome. now, perhaps, morels!
oops. _waking_…
Well, doesn’t that change things incredibly.
“Waking” is metaphor-centric word, so its use (especially) in a poem, easily causes such an inundating gestation of images, perceptions, thought, and such.
How are you/we “waking to rain”? As an alarm clock, or as satori—or something other than and/or in-between the two?
Yes, quite very indeed, “waking” is mucho much better than, “walking.”
(Now, I love this poem even more deeply.)
Kiitos.
thanks dear man … sending you hugs, oxox and rain and waking