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.

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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;

peaceful

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,

testing,

prodding,

curious.

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

serenity.

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

overhead,

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,

unconcerned.

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,

existing

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.