Tuesday, October 29, 2013

Poem: Precious Peaceful Moments

Of the 500+ poems I wrote between 2005 and 2007, this is one of my favorites.  It's from the summer of 2005 when I went with my 3-year-old daughter to visit my parents in Houston.  This was when M and I were separated, and before Syd was born.


the cell phone doesn’t ring when i’m here.
i’ve been down here four days,
and it hasn’t rung even once.

i sit here in the study
behind a laptop,
little cricket sounds
issuing from the speakers
at random intervals,
my daughter standing at
my side
as thunder rumbles outside.

it’s raining.

the rain splatters on the window,
dripping from the big
trees overhead,
flicking the leaves of the foliage
in the landscaping beyond the window.

a bird squawks somewhere high above.
either calling for his mate,
or pissed off at being wet.

little pools of water ripple
in the grass.
it’s flat down here,
and there’s nowhere for the water
to run-off.

my daughter lays her little head
on my leg.
she’s tired.
trying to have a bowel movement
for an hour
will do that to you.

the bird is squawking.
still pissed off.
the rain has slackened,
but still falls with
those big gulf coast drops.

everything is soaked
and dripping.
the day seems soggy.

and yet it’s serene;
in a meditative
sort of way.
the thunder is just
a gentle rumble
in the distance,
deep in the belly of the
white clouds nesting overhead.
the rain is kind,
not harsh.
and the wind
brushes the leaves with baby’s fingers,

the hanging clock in the study
tick-tocks away,
the only sound in the house
besides my typing.
it’s older than i am –
it has been a part of this family
since before
i was conceived.

pissed off bird still squawking,
but it’s not insistent
or grating.
it only adds to the

a car motors by outside,
windshield wipers moving
in a flurry.

my daughter has walked away
and i go to search for her.
i find her standing before
the big windows in the
family room,
staring at the rain
as it falls from the gutter
a waterfall splashing
against round rocks in the
bed behind the house.
she’s running her fingers
across the window,
following the streaking
lines of water
as they run down the glass.

she’s calm,
just like the day itself.
at peace,
with the worries
of the world
far away
and insignificant.

on a day like today
only the now matters,
in this little corner
of the world,
where the rain
falls down from white clouds,
and the thunder
tumbles around overhead,
and a bird squawks in the branches,
and a clock
ticks off the seconds
of this soon-to-be-gone
peaceful moment.

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