MonsoonAnts march across the empty
clothesline with eggs in their mouths -
they know what's coming.
Children take no notice
till the sky is grey as a turtle's back
and their mothers call from the doorways
and still they wait for the first raindrop
and later look from the window,
tracing rivulets, toes begging
for the taste of mud.
We weren't expecting this,
so the windows were left open,
the shutters thrown wide.
We stand in the center of the room,
vow never to forget
the fury of these days, the smell
of glisteing skin, the simple
wants of rain.
- Irene Latham
"Happiness only real when shared."
- Christopher McCandless
"the simple wants of rain"
ReplyDeleteThose words feel wonderful.
Anna
Hi Anna -- yes, the whole poem was about getting to that line. :) Glad you like. Send me something of yours! I would love to read!
ReplyDelete