Rainstorm

Rain teases, trickles,
more sweat than shower
air thick and smothering
sits on my chest.

I exhale in puffs
willing chest to rise
begrudging this outing

Cardinal whistles
happy scales, while
somber sky squeezes
a single droplet
kisses my skin
and then explodes
pellet-like missiles
of water soaking

clothes cling
as a river traces
contours of face
body melting
into flow

and through it all
cardinal sings
a laughing melody.

Waiting On the Storm

The air hangs heavy and yet I shiver,
threat of rain clouds the forlorn sky;
high above the palm leaves quiver,
the air hangs heavy and yet I shiver
even birdsong has become a wither
Nature’s wrath seldom a passing sigh;
the air hangs heavy and yet I shiver,
threat of rain clouds the forlorn sky.

(An attempt at a triolet for Jilly who is hosting the dVerse pub tonight.)