Curious, the rain whence cometh down,
She falleth soft in overwhelming drops;
In peace, her quietly pervading sound
Transformeth sun and moon–so uninvited.
Strange, that once her drops, when they invade,
As former they, her forest’s ardour stops;
Though cities in the stead of trees pervade
And held as quiet sway–so unexcited.
Pleasing, how again she doth return
Such streets and buildings, parking lots and shops;
To older days for which they seem to yearn,
So mixt with all her fallen tears–united.
Older she than land they wrest; her crops,
If brick or straw are we–and unrequited.
This sonnet is part of a short sequence; click here to read it all:
David Emeron: Sonnets 
This piece ripens for me with time. As I read it aloud I hear subtleties that remind me that music was your first language.
Your word choice has a gentle rhythm that can be followed like gentle rain throughout.
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Every since you first brought the notion to my attention I have looked for signs and manifestations of this… languagey thing of which you speak.
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What else can I say? Beautiful as always David!! :) Hope you’re having a beautiful Sunday and I wish you a wonderful and blessed week ahead!
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Yes, I agree, it’s so pretty. I’ve really been loving this series too!
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People seem to like the subject of rain. Thank you.
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Thank you, and keep smiling!
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What can I say, dearest?
It stands the test of time!
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I wish I could Pass My Own Test(tm) I do not know how many retakes I am allowed….
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