We knew it would rain.

A poem just for you my dear friends

We knew it would rain.
Beams of silver moonlight descend to the forest floor

seemingly moving like spirits and ghosts

in the ground fog below.

Like a spirit on slender threads of mist,

shimmering like jewels upon the vapory wet stones,

A waterfall roars, it's spray is a rainbow,

shimmering in a subdued glow of the bright moonlight.

Hidden within the veil of rainbow mist can be heard

the sound of the rushing water of the falls

as it cascades into the depths of the abyss below,

settling among the reeds and water lilies, 

of the surrounding marshes and swamps,

frogs sing their melodies,

as fens scoop the dew that lay in the flowers.

Elemental faie are hard at work

dipping the floral jewels in the sea

To sprinkle them over the land in showers.

The rain will be coming soon.

When one lives close to the land and nature

one knows the signs of changing weather.

The poplars turn up the light underside of their leaves.

The wind, like the breath from the mother herself, blows,

and the lightning streaks the sky; 

the tempest will soon be here.

In the darkness of the tumult

columns of clouds light up like daylight

during the flashes of lighting.

The tall grass of the fields moves like waves at sea,

the rain comes hard and beating down the leaves and grass,

until they lay nearly flat.
The Tempest

Small rivers appear where there were none.

Raindrops seemingly explode off all they hit.

In noise of the tumult, break and wave and flow,

and crashing upon one another, the storm clouds mushroom,

reaching up to touch the moon above it would seem.

The tempest blows and threatens,

the lightning flashes and the thunder roars.

The fisherman at sea is uncertain

if body and soul will remain as one on this night.

Can he navigate his small vessel back to shore?

He is at the mercy of the mother!

Holding the wheel he closes his eyes and prays.

Along the country road,

a farmers barn falls with a loud crash. 

Elsewhere a house is struck by lightning.

Then all is silent and calm,

as the fisherman opens his eyes to see,

then smiles, and thanks the great mother.

The silvery moon comes out once again,

glistening and sparkling upon the raindrops like tiny jewels,

on webs and leaves.

All is silence except for the forest's night sounds.

❤Thank you very much my dear friends for being here ❤