Rivulets

Having survived January
uninterred, I give my gloom
to the rain.
There is plenty of each
for both.

The snow, like patches
of soiled batting, lies flat
and gray as if knowing
its sparkle is gone,
its days numbered.

The creeks are rising
the puddles increasing.
I hunker beneath my umbrella;
surely the slate
will soon be clean.

There is no sorrow
for this February parting;
the season lasted too long.
With shovel in shed, and buds
bursting, I embrace the rain.

2 comments

  1. Hi Sarah
    There is no sorrow
    for this February parting;
    the season lasted too long.
    With shovel in shed, and buds
    bursting, I embrace the rain.

    I love the attitude in this piece, the strength of embracing the cleansing of nature, time, and personal things. Nature is so related to our inner selves; her temperament reflects our own as you so subtly and wonderfully infer in these lines –

    The snow, like patches
    of soiled batting, lies flat
    and gray as if knowing
    its sparkle is gone,
    its days numbered.

    and sometimes within us, we ,too, know when its time for those patches of doubt/despair to melt and wash away into something new and positive.

    This is lovely poem for Mid-Winter nearing its end and Spring around the corner. As always, you have a wisdom that echoes throughout the work and into the heart/mind of your readers.

    Thank you,
    Take care
    Wendy

    Liked by 1 person

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