by Debbie Okun Hill
Wet Whisper of Rain Pit! Pat! Soft steps beneath darkened sky! I am summer rain drumming, ballet light. Toes and quarter notes tapping on your tent. Can you hear my knock? Wet whispers outside your unscreened flap? Gentle at first, a sputter! Pit! Pat! Then a stutter, a pause, no appreciative applause before resuming my private rain dance: a pirouette over and above your canvas shield. No fiddler on this rooftop! More like wind instruments rustling maple leaves minutes before the storm. My footsteps, now heavier in this orchestrated courtship. Soon I will trombone slide—with nature’s music-- tumble fall from night’s exhaustion down your slope. But first I am balanced: brass trumpets usher out the stars my confidence soars beneath burdened clouds. And you, my friend, dream-drift-turn in your sleep twist thoughts in your sleeping bag, oblivious to my arrival and departure: my waterfall of regrets, pour out to cleanse the moisture lingering on your tent fly. Hours later in the wink of morning, red-breasted robins wake you. The ostrich ferns, a wet lace canopy, stand tall over moss beds drink the spilled water I left behind like a secret message: a rippling reflection mirrored at the edge of your camp site waiting for you to begin again with the fresh scent of a single kiss. My renaissance; this rain barrel recollection of summer.
Judge Anna Yin’s comments:
I like the musical and playful energy in the poem as if the words were dancing like rain.
Debbie Okun Hill is a Canadian poet/blogger with over 450 poems published in Canada, and the US. She has one trade book Tarnished Trophies (Black Moss Press, 2014) and four poetry chapbooks. Follow her literary journey on her blog Kites Without Strings where for over seven years she has posted over 180 features.