After the Rain

After the rain everything breathes out
in relief- the ground, the trees, you; you 
because your home is still intact, they 
for what the rain does to the despair
of drought. There is an afterglow where
the afternoon sun paints wet surfaces
with a brush dipped in amber, a sense 
of grace. All you could have done and 
not done, today, has been done, or not.
All nonsense has been settled; Venus has
not yet risen but she is peeking through 
clouds a couple of counties to the east. 

After the rain, the air smells like hope;
your mind maybe even drifts down
swollen rivers awakened from their lazy
summer ways- you put your little boat
into the water and end up somewhere
around 8th grade, you catch a glimpse of
life before life became an endless series
of obligations and an anesthetizing of 
daydreams. What wetness fell in the
woods today collects in vernal pools; if
you go just after the storm, there will be
enough clear water for each one of us. 

Do we meander to where we recover 
those elusive joys? After the rain, I followed
you, from afar; I watched you search for 
one hidden grotto, with ferns and soft evening
glow and maybe a little waterfall. You sat 
there letting the runoff trickle between your 
fingers, you made a tiny canoe of paper and
sailed it towards the middle. Whose waters
are those, my friend- and are you afraid to
swim? If she truly loves you, do you not know
she will hold your head above water if your
body fails- or simply drown, in your place?

After the rain, we remember just where 
we planted the flowers. If we are very 
lucky, and hold still long enough, we may
also recall, why we planted them, 
for the rain to bring back to life one summer
afternoon. I, for one, have always wanted
to make love in the rain, again.

Author's Note

writing for a friend tonight. We have had several days of dangerous, heavy, tropical storm related rains for a full week. Some days, it feels like this rain will never end. Picture and more background, soon. Also, translation.

This poem was inspired by a conversation about how our hearts will direct our minds to the places of greatest joy when we are alone in perfect stillness.

Piture is my own, delphinius in my garden after a morning rainfall last week.

Reviews

[h d e rushin]

after i read your poems i want to be in a forest....the forest i imagined in grade school. the one without demons or sticking plants......the forest of silence which i try to accomplish in this wooden house where the rain, the wind, the ants everything makes it's own personal noise mostly for my annoyance. The third stanza here took us on that long road where inspiration meets acceptance then enters the joy of knowing that even in the dark of silence spaces no one is ever really alone. Your work has changed from a woman who speaks of desire, to a woman who works to sooth the moist emotions where desire enters the open soul and thrives....Your amazing.../dana

[Marie Anzalone]

Oh always so good to enter your mind and heart, dana, when you leave a review! I can actually relate to your house aggravations, as I share mine with 4 rescue dogs and 500,000 killer African bees in the roof and frequent earthquakes and infrequent volcanic eruptions that coat everything in ash. Always fun to ask what was that latest explosion? The mine? The volcano? Fireworks? Gunshots? a bomb?

I have been moving through a lot of trauma recovery, my dear friend, same as you. As we progress, if we progress, our perspective, our needs, our desires change, don't they?

I pormise to come back in a couple of weeks with some reviews. I have about 100 more pages of technical writing to get through. Much love until then. Missed you terribly.

[Carol Cashes]

Oh. My. Goodness. Yes, rain feels cleansing, and leaves hope and potential renewal in its wake. Your version of that is more pleasing to the brain and eye. Thank you for this Sunday morning reminder....

[Marie Anzalone]

Wow, Carol, thank you very much for the review this morning! The rain cycle, the double monsoon season, extrme rainfall, extended rought- all of these things are very intricately woven into our lives where I live. I tried to capture some essence of that, and apply it to human existence. So glad you saw that, and apprecated it.

[J. J. Nightingale]

"After the rain, the air smells like hope"....
Wow, this says it all..hope...
Your words are full with hope, and Love..

I did enjoy !!!
Wonderfully Beautiful !!


Jazzy

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks for taking the time to read and leave such a lovely and thoughtful review, Jazzy!

[J. J. Nightingale]

You are welcome..................... :).....

[emmajoy]

' you catch a glimpse of
life before life became an endless series
of obligations and an anesthetizing of
daydreams. What wetness fell in the
woods today collects in vernal pools; if
you go just after the storm, there will be
enough clear water for each one of us. '

Beautiful.

So many hints of how to feel love.. and more. How this wondrous emotion adheres to the hearts of the chosen. How such love reminds and inspires in equal measure, whenever, wherever.

Such places and feelings are as rare as imagination travels, to experience it must be not only a dream but a soft yet sizzling privilege.

[Marie Anzalone]

emma, this was inspired by a conversation I had about how our hearts, during moments of quiet reflection, lead us back to places of great joy. And what better time for quiet reflection than those golden moments after a rainstorm? I hope to one day be allowed to fully remember those hidden places that we all keep tucked away in our souls. I know that you know all about that. :-)

[emmajoy]

Yes, I do.. and that comes about because rainbows are a sign from somewhere, anywhere..

[Marie Anzalone]

they most certainly are

[emmajoy]

:) I thought you'd agree... and now - now I slide into a night of rainbows.. x

[Richard🖌]

Gosh, Marie!
Every beautifully touching word flowed off the page into my mind, fell into my heart, and danced with my emotions in such a delightfully image-laden embrace I had to read it again to be sure I was not dreaming.
All of that to sweep me up with your memories of lovemaking in the rain … how more beautifully sweet can poetry be than this?

Warmest hugs for treating us to this tender gift! ⁓ Richard 🌺

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Richard, for your beautiful and meaningful review! If you hae never had the experience of making love in th rain, I do suggest you try it. I need to get a big project done, the I will be back to start reviewing and participating more here. In the meantime, I appreciate that you toom the time to read, and leave a few word for me.

[Richard🖌]

MMmmm, it sounds sooo inviting … the way you put it. ; )
Your lovely poetry made reading you a sweet pleasure, Marie, and you are truly welcome … a most beautiful day to you, Lady-Poet! ⁓ Richard