[Written April 20, 2011]

I could sit and watch the rain for hours,
cascading through these April showers–
lightning strikes of Thor’s creation
providing their illumination.
The moonlit night lies tucked away
behind the clouds awaiting day.

Cars drive by, their wipers flashing,
through inches-deep puddles splashing.
Girls shriek and scamper ‘cross the street
ruing their dampened clothes and feet;
umbrellas weakened by the gale,
their spines broken in its assail.

They turn their backs to wind and rain
cursing it away again,
while manufactured sounds endure–
the nightly presence least demure.
Sounds of motors, cars–each a part
of the quintessential human art.

And here I sit behind the glass
watching Mother Nature’s sadness pass.
The world she weeps for left behind,
forgotten in the throes of mankind.
The world is dead, the night unclaimed,
her majesty brushed away and shamed.

What sinister powers do we posses
that steal away our happiness
to be alive and hear the sounds
the goddess herself richly expounds?
Too much ability, too complex a mind,
leaves our senses aloof, deaf and blind.

The rain slows, but we take little heed
until it suits the human need.
What will it take to understand:
an Australia, Japan or Pakistan?
Long these rains must fall until
it abates our human swill.

I weep for her as she for me,
within each other’s agony,
to realize this mutual loss–
that still there hangs the albatross.
And here I am, through thoughts I wander;
and yet another night I squander.

My today was her tonight;
now I choose to be her acolyte.
Struck down by fervent lightning flashes
I am reduced to naught but ashes.
And as the rainstorm flickers out,
my tears within match those without.

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