Rain
The clouds were gray, and pregnant with rain,
waiting to fall on the world below.
The people of the city await
for the wetness that will soak them,
and in anticipation
traffic starts to slow.
The parks empty
as children go home
to play inside
rather than out.
And birds settle down,
in the branches of trees,
rather than flutter.
Homeowners
put away their mowers,
glad that the cutting is done.
The air felt heavy,
thick with moisture,
with a smell of static
that foreshadows
the lightning to come.
And in the graveyard
the statues stand,
waiting for rain
that will mimic the tears
they cannot shed
for those that have gone.
The clouds were gray, and pregnant with rain,
waiting to fall on the world below.
The people of the city await
for the wetness that will soak them,
and in anticipation
traffic starts to slow.
The parks empty
as children go home
to play inside
rather than out.
And birds settle down,
in the branches of trees,
rather than flutter.
Homeowners
put away their mowers,
glad that the cutting is done.
The air felt heavy,
thick with moisture,
with a smell of static
that foreshadows
the lightning to come.
And in the graveyard
the statues stand,
waiting for rain
that will mimic the tears
they cannot shed
for those that have gone.
