Tag Archives: rain

Bad Timing: Wordle 522

Bad Timing

It’s not until I hear the thunder
that I recognize my blunder.
All alone. (I ditched my fella).
In the forest, no umbrella.

As I walk, my shoes are gooing.
Up above, the doves are cooing,
but they’re up there under covers
with their nestlings and their lovers.

I’m down here shivering in the rain
with seven miles of rough terrain
in front of me from here to home.
I need a fairy, elf or gnome

to come and work their magic spell
to save me from this drippy Hell.
The rain beats its loud tattoos
upon my head and neck and shoes.

I start to shiver, drip and ooze.
I covet shelter, dryness, booze—
all things that I had of late
before I deigned to ditch my date!

My  leather shoes, high-heeled and small,
are not helping things at all.
I take them off and walk bare-toed
down the rain-slicked country road.

I wish that I had asked how far
home was before I left the car!

Prompt words are doves, elves, walk, tattoo, covet, umbrella, seven, blunder, forest, thunder, leathery, small. Image by Merri on Unsplash.

For: The Sunday Whirl Wordle 522

Sudden Hard Rain

Click on photos to enlarge.

I know the U.S. is having every vagary of weather this week: snow, severe heat, tornadoes. Our weather during the rainy season in inland Mexico is pretty predictable. This rain came on quickly and with a vengeance this afternoon. Hard rain for about fifteen minutes and then departed as quickly as it came.


(Please click on images to enlarge.)


I am simpatico with sight, enamored of my hearing,
and yet when both give signs of the rainy season nearing,
I find a new sense opening as the memory
of that long redolence of rain comes flooding back to me.

That first whiff of petrichor—-the breath of dust and rain
brings a reunion of senses swirling back again.
The touch of rain along my arms, the taste upon my tongue.
The song of it in ditches when I was very young.

Every sight excited now as it was then.
First its gentle pattering, then its thundering din.
It beats upon my windows, streams down from the eaves.
Soaks into the soil, forms droplets on the leaves

as though they are mementos of the thunder and the light
that has served as a foreshadowing of the rainstorm’s might.
Every sense appealed to. Riches above reason.
Every prayer is answered in the rainy season.

Words for the day are breath, simpatico, sight, redolence and long. Image of the boots from Rupert Britton on Unsplash, used with permission. All other images by Judy Dykstra-Brown.


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Gives an excuse
for that bright orange umbrella
and yellow overshoes
toppled over in the hall closet,
yet it is nighttime and I am old.
I lie under blankets on the sofa,
content with its comforting
on the plastic skylight

It is a friend knocking
calling me out to play.

Six years old,
Imprisoned by summer,
we were given occasionally
the refreshing release
of a hard summer rain.
Bare feet splashing,
we raced dry leaf boats
manned by our imaginations
through the caves of culverts,
down to those ultimate puddles
magnificent in their magnitude.

Sixty years later,
I am caught up in the currents
of that sudden rush downwards
and backwards to
a plastic umbrella
abandoned on the sidewalk
as we opened like  flowers.

hides tears.
Forces growth.
Cleans up our messes
and provides glorious new ones.
Washes away today
and grows tomorrow.


For dVerse Poets: Rain

Rain on Mosaic: NaPoWriMo 2019 Minimalist Poem, Apr 30



Rain on Mosaic





Glide on smooth.
Slide off easy.

Our assignment today was to write a minimalist poem. Last day of NaPoWriMo!!!!




My attempts at active leisure are challenged by the rain,
so it’s possible that I will go back to bed again.
Raindrops slash and pummel. Rain soaks my shoes and hair.
I wouldn’t mind it half so much if I were wash and wear,
but, alas, I crumple up. I languish in the cold.
I’ve a propensity for colds and coughs. My shoes develop mold.
And so with no more ceremony, I’ll remain inside.
When rain seeks my company, I choose to spare my hide.



Coping with the Rainy Season

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Coping with the Rainy Season

No kudos to the darkness.
No kudos to the rain.
No kudos to departed sun
until it comes again.
Kudos to my blankets
and kudos to my pillows.
So long as rain drips steadily
from eaves troughs and from willows,
I may never stir again. Bring me tea in bed.
No eggs, but English muffins, buttered, in their stead.
I want to stay all snuggled ’til rain has gone away.
Follow these same instructions on every rainy day!

The Ragtag prompt today is indulgence.

Rude Visitor


This year the rains came early, starting the day after the men came to begin stripping and resurfacing my roofs. The day after they were supposed to remove the skylight, hurricane-force winds and torrential rains made me glad for once, that they had been no-shows. A month later, the repairs are over and we’ve settled into the daily or nightly showers. I am snug in my house and the mountains behind me are covered with a vivid green. Soon water will be shooting in rivers down the arroyos and cobblestone roads that lead down to the lake from my house and every teja will serve as its own channel for individual rios streaming down from my roof into waterfalls that will arc down to the terrace tiles below.

The rainy season
breaks its usual habit.
A rude early guest.

For dVerse Poets.

Rain, Fog, Cloud, Snow and Sol: Cee’s Black and White Weather Challenge

Click on any photo to enlarge all.

For Cee’s B&W Challenge: Weather.