More Poetry by Robert R. Woods

June 19, 2o13

  I use a lot of weather metaphors... but never solely talking about the weather... there's something underneath the obvious.

Secret Rain

 

I was curious about the rain,

how it snuck-up on me right before
I went to bed. Lightning flashes
thunder right behind it… a big storm,
very near. Did I close the kitchen window
when I finished  my last cigarette?
Up to check it just in case…
Nope, pulled down tight. I must be
smarter than it thinks I am.
And here it comes,
pounding the rooftop, attacking
the fragile window glass;
the poor trees lining the streets
stripped of their new born leaves.
The neighbor’s car rocks in alarm
“You’re standing too close to the vehicle.”
And suddenly… it stops. And all seems right
as if the storm had never been at all.
But the trees, the battered car, the leaves
left dying in the gutters… a reminder.
Though the worst has past, it was
without a doubt a costly mess, and most
assuredly, the rain will drift our way again.
—rrw o6-18-13