Coolness seeps into the morning.
We have had rain.
Sensations of being cleansed
enliven the trees
bright green with light.
Bird song splashes the air.
Where had the birds hid in the rain?
This is a quandary to me.
Cozy in my home, I query,
“Where do I go to heed the rain
to pause, to listen, to wait?”
Joan Donato
I CAN SEE CLEARLY NOW, Johnny Cash
She is a Bostonian transplanted to CA. Writing poetry satisfies her. Retired from a career as a teacher and councilor she is committed to studying the craft of poetry. She strives to create sonic texture in her poems while nurturing her creative child in her desire to pen poetry.