Rain

Walking through green,
intense in the rain-light,
vibrant and singing
with its water-life
and hot-blooded blackbirds.

Every stalk,
cock’s-foot, fescue,
bows beneath its load
of crystal drops.

The damp talks
with the sucking sound of soles
in the mud of wormcasts;
twigs crack slowly, sullenly,

and the rain is full
of the fierce, shrill cry
of the sparrowhawk.

The earth rolls and rains and drips
from dawn to dusk,
and only we think life stops
in the wet weather.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

13 thoughts on “Rain”

      1. Seems like forever! It’s always peaceful here, rain or shine, but I’m missing not seeing the meadows in the sun. The flowers probably prefer it though.

  1. and the rain is full
    of the fierce, shrill cry
    of the sparrowhawk.

    I love the idea of rain being full of a bird’s cry… that’s such beautiful imagery, Jane.


    David

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