After The Rain

After The Rain

The silence is only an illusion.

It’s just that we do not always hear

What is actually still there.

The echoes of the rain,

Stored in memory,

Play over again as the dripping remnants

Give a rhythmic tapping serenade.

The chaotic winds rise and fall as they cause

The rustling of leaves not yet fallen. 

Outside my window,

The swishing hiss of passing cars,

Interrupts the silence briefly,

As they pass through the overflow,

Sliding along the rain-drenched streets.

The air is fresh and cool.

I breathe deeply and deliberately.

Sometimes the wind will gust just enough,

To move the air around my skin. 

I always pause at that moment, if I can—

Embracing the opportunity to become

Completely present in that moment.

The pleasure is exponential when

The gift of a breeze is met

With gratitude and appreciation. 

So it is with us.

We see our lives through a prism at times.

Everything looks distorted and chaotic

Through such a lens.

Particular aspects of our lives

Can also become clearer

In the swirling swishing of time.

But we have to keep our chins above water.

Relentlessly swimming through your life

Can only go on for so long,

Before we begin to question our methods.

 

We dread the rain when it comes without mercy;

Today the rains fell with a vengeance. 

The deluge knocked the plants off the porch rail.

Even as I endured the worst of the storm;

I knew it could not last—this downpour.

But all the while, I feared it would outlast me.

I prayed that it would soon subside.

Life changes and is modified, moment to moment—

After several hours of relentless deluge,

The winds subsided and the rain lessened. 

After the rain, what feels like silence reigns,

The forecast for tomorrow is

That it will be a lovely day; sunny and mild. 

That’s what they always say.

© September 2021 by JJHIII

Hope you enjoyed reading my most recent poem. I’ve been working on a video series of short snips of different subjects to try out the visual arts capabilities of my computers and other devices. I am putting together a preliminary sneak preview of the most recent video-series-in-progress.

I know that trying to control every aspect of the presentation is a fool’s errand, but for the first few videos in the series, I wanted to keep it simple and figure out how to integrate any future skill with this in mind. I enjoyed the process immensely, and there are a few hilarious outtakes that will probably survive should that ever become something of interest.

For now, I am focused on reading, research, writing, conjuring, getting through things. There is so much good in the world, and not everything is about mainstream media either. Some of the best reading anywhere happens frequently here at WordPress.com. Hang on out there!

Kindest regards…John H.

A Wistful Winter Morning

Morning Snow2

As I press my hand to the brass knob
Level with my blurred line of sight,
Releasing the bolt which holds the door firmly closed,
Streaks of brilliant light flood the foyer
Through the beveled prisms
Of my uncertainty.

A mechanical clack announces the release
Of the lock as I step tentatively backward,
To allow for the swinging, sweeping sound
As my heart opens to newly born morning light,
Mingled with the winter’s frosty breath,
Provoking both wonder and curious resistance.

Shimmering icy sparkles rise up in all directions;
Stillness soothes the stinging bite of winter breezes;
Solar pulses of colored hues caress the tips of snowy knolls
While rhythmic heartbeats warm my inner frame,
Sustaining the memories of moments within me–
Cherished thoughts and awkward apprehensions.

Stumbling back to the kitchen counter,
Searching for the implements of the morning grind,
A glance again toward the world without
Diverts my heart and mind just long enough
To contemplate what once was warm and green,
Now obscured by a wistful winter morning.

© January 2011 by JJHIII