Reading & Writing Poetry
all day rainme and the babymaking faces
Feb. 16th.All Day Rain.They stare at the parched earth,useless prayers unanswered,mothers, eyes glazed with loss of hope,their children’s eyelids covered with flies,only oceans away.Here I watch long needles of rain stitching the earth to the same sky,stealing the lighttill suddenly the sun breaks through,long enough for the miracle of a rainbow.It fades, turning the day too soon into dusk,piercing the stillness with ceaselesspounding.An eerie yellow light supplants the grey,loading the air with mystery.
All day rainblurs the treeswith a steady dripit fills the soil upuntil the clay oozes yellow.All day rain keeps me close indoorstending the stovewith offers of sticksto keep the bright heart alive.
Wet Playtime Rain treacles down the windows,tempting fingers to dip into the condensationand noses to smear the glassas they watchthe puddles in the playgroundplead to be paddled in.Circles of children bickerabout dice throws and where the snake’s head beginswhile others march in to settlethe dispute with theirsticklebrick-constructed guns.Runaway pieces of Lego and jigsaws escape across the floor,in league with felt-tip penspencil shavingsand marbles.Wellies line uptwo-by-two by the doorwaiting for home time beside soggy shoes huddledin a heap, abandonedfor plimsolls.The steaming radiatorswear the soaked school uniform of the coatless few of the class,who have changedinto PE kits, as grubbyas the bodies inside them.
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