Another rain serenade,
collected chorus from roof and gutters,
background patter modulated
by the breath of wind
We’ll sleep well again tonight,
tucked in with gratitude,
secure in our house haven.
We’ll grow like spring shoots
in the moist air, stretch into
whatever morning is spread before us.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 10, 2022
After dark the summer rain
starts up again, its breath blown softly
through the open windows,
its quiet rustle
accompanied by one frog
It seems to plan
to grow back all the grass
we mowed today,
whose scent it sends to us
sweet and for free.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 9, 2022
Hold me in the hollow
of the waxing crescent moon,
in the halo of the memory of day,
let me cruise as softly
toward the dark horizon’s hills,
soothed in my sweet hammock’s gentle sway
Stars have been infrequent
in this recent time of year –
rain has owned the music of the night,
but frogs will sing for rain or stars,
and I –
I’ll take in either with delight.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 3, 2022
It’s easy to find beauty
at the soft end
of these soft wet days,
to think fondly of lullabies
and summoning a household peace,
gently combing out the tangles
of fear and worry, smoothing them away
Late sun comes out pink under the clouds,
rain still trickles off the roof
and out the overflowing tank,
reflections of inside lights
hover above the garden as we
put April to bed for another year.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 30, 2022
We settle into the rainy afternoon.
The couch entices napping.
The fire doesn’t argue strenuously
against it. Nothing is strenuous.
Higher purposes await their turn –
they will lift me, if only I will
give attention to them,
take the day in hand,
deliver something.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 13, 2022
The rain rolls its music
down the gutters, into the tank
where round echoes replay
the rhythms of trickling,
the pause and rush
that give a cadence like words –
you could easily think
someone was speaking
just beyond the range of intelligible.
Frogs add counterpoint.
For all this,
I am glad.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 2, 2022
The evening wind
sang sweet songs of spring,
its scent intoxicating,
its warmth causing the snow
to sink on in to the earth
But the morning rain
(which began hours before
what would have been dawn,
were it not for the soggy gloom)
was a dark reminder
that there’s still a long slog
before the winter lifts,
and we’ll have to dig deeper
to find what carries us
through the low passage
and upward and out.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 3, 2022
Soft rain, shrouding clouds,
a low solar day
in which we rely on fire
for comforts we desire,
and friendship, that essential connection,
to stand in for the sun
The day began with knowing
where my love comes from,
and now ends in the peace
of love well done.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 27, 2021
Rain at night
is a fine coziness –
more so for its forbearance
through the day, for the unexpected sun
that came in with all kinds
of special effects, and all kinds of power
for batteries, and encouragement
for living things (like us)
getting ready for the short dark days.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 3, 2021
The rain is not something we have earned,
nor did we earn those morning moments
before it came,
when light and leaf and cloud
revealed their splendor
But it is something we can revel in –
its sound on the roof, the quails
running around snatching up seeds,
the deer skittish as they browse,
the ground greening and softening
It is something that brings up gratitude,
like subtle colors deepening in contrast,
like clover seedlings springing from the soil.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 5, 2021