The air hangs still and dense,
its doldrums a reflection of my spirit.
This weather would find relief
in a fresh rainfall,
but I refuse to cry.

Renewal will come in due time,
to the inner landscapes of my heart.
Your laughter is a deluge of joy
I await.
Until you return to this land,
I will survive the drought.

But on that day, we will dance
in the rain.
You will soak me through.
I will rejoice.
I will drink your beauty.
Like wine, it will intoxicate me.
But no hangover;
I will awake, rejuvenated.

Your rain, in its purity,
has no danger of excess.

Copyright © 1999-2023, Gregory S. Kendall -- All Rights Reserved.