O, rain,

Come, pour down on me;

Cold, blissful touch of water,

Wash, take all the wilting away.



Pour, flush this arid thirst;

Cry, wrap us with your mist.

Come, let our tears to blend

Like yours, wish our tears could mend.



O, rain,

Flow, don't let us just stay here;

Rise, wake our lives from fear.

Stay, cool the hot day's air;

Sway, let us breathe again.



The Rain Photograph is by Tall Man. The link to his site is http://www.flickr.com/photos/tall-guy/2080188699/

(A poem for my father)




He was the wall I leaned my back on

When wind was too harsh and cold

And when my young legs were prone to stumble

With hands so stable he led me through.



He molded me as his masterpiece

And handed me a bag of seeds

We stood before a bushy field

And said it was for me to yield.



The courage that flares high within

Reflects the strength my father gave.

And in this ranch now vast and crowded

Lies the railings now strong and valid.



And when I look to know who it's from

I see myself and not my dad.

Weak, tired arms
stretching outward
Cupping the morning dew
on the yard.

Stillness of air
soft as my breath,
Sunlight through the mist
have me bathed.

I could not listen
in a world so uncalm
And could not hear
What my heart truly want.

A countryside
in early morn
Soft and quiet
like a newborn soul.