Rodney the Ravaging Rodent

I am a humble house mouse,
Rodney is my name,
My favourite lodging is your house,
Cohabitation is my game.
I am remarkably well equipped,
For living in your house,
So I thought I’d share some trivia,
About my kind, the humble mouse.
My kind originated in Asia,
Spreading centuries ago,
We then spread with the explorers,
On their voyages we did go.
Once inside your house,
We’re difficult to control,
But we’re just trying to survive,
To make it through life whole.
We are prolific breeders,
Big families we often need,
We have six to ten litters a year,
That’s forty mouths to feed.
We can have a litter at two months,
Three weeks is the gestation,
We can then rebreed immediately,
And continue to dominate the nation.
Food, clothing, furniture and books,
Though not our staple diet,
Can be supplemented with electrical cord,
Sometime you might try it.
However, the last one’s if we’re desperate,
If our need for food is higher,
Because such actions kill the appliance,
And start the odd fire.
We are a very curious sort,
Daily exploring our territory,
But my family don’t venture far,
Only ever eight yards from me.
We like to explore new things,
These we like to see,
And, unlike our feline foes,
We’re not killed by curiousity.
We are sporadic in our feeding,
Particularly when there’s lots of food,
We take a little, but quite often,
To stuff ourselves is rude.
We visit food up to 30 times,
0.15 of a gram is all we take,
It might not seem much to you,
But we’re little for goodness sake!
If humans can provide warmth and food,
We can survive almost anywhere,
When humans explore the ice caps,
You will even find us there.
Unlike the teeth of other mammals,
Our front teeth don’t stop growing,
If we didn’t gnaw so much,
Then up our butts they’d be going.
Mouse bones have been found in caves,
Where the cavemen dwelled,
Language as yet would be undeveloped,
So I wonder what they yelled?
We can jump down 12 feet without injury,
And jump 12-inches on the vertical,
We can also scale rough vertical surfaces,
And thrice our weight we can pull.
Our numbers are quite simply legion,
Through all times they have grown,
We do 500 million dollars damage,
Yearly in Australia alone.
So, I hope you’ve enjoyed this chat,
This little mouse life map,
And enjoy that moment even more,
As you empty me from the trap.

The title came to me first. For some reason I was thinking of a mouse and thought that a semi-factual poem might make a nice change. So, I did some research and tied it all together in poetic form. I might even use it with kids one day.

Our Computer is Broken

When Charlie turned the computer on,
It look an extended time,
And the messages that it gave,
Were like Hiroshima is a past time.
“HIMEM encountered bad memory”,
“Restore your registry”,
But it refused to do the latter,
Despite lots of swearing from me.
For the past two days this happened,
I hate that creaky mother,
Charlie and I have had to talk,
And spend time with each other.
For Charlie uses it the most,
She gets 200 emails a day,
She also plans for work on it,
And uses it for play.
I tend to get my fix at work,
That is the safest bet,
But I use the one at home,
On the weekend for the ‘net.
We have another PC at home,
Just not got it ready,
It is a bit newer than the old,
And the programs are more steady.
But of course, the worry is,
Many files can’t be replaced,
Please say, “You should back them up,”
So I can punch you in the face.
Charlie’s planning, my web pages,
All may be lost,
But such trivialities really don’t matter,
Our lives they will not cost.

True, for the most part. It's amazing how much you miss something when it's gone.

What is Love?

Engaging conversation
Curious negotiation
Awkward moments
Lazy meanderings
Painful separation
Longingly aching
Explosive re-uniting
Dry-mouthed anticipation
Wondrous exploration
Bodies colliding
Whispering kisses
Relieving relaxation’s
Lives melding
Reality reforming
Meaning constructed
Heaven on Earth

Caught in a romantic mood and wanting to write a poem shorter than the love poem done earlier this month, this was the result. The "bodies colliding" bit came first, then I built the poem around it, using the two words per line idea, mostly writing word pairs. Then, to break the pattern at the end, a three word line to leave the reader with the unconscious recognition that the pattern had been broken. Sneaky, huh?

Procrastination

I have been procrastinating diligently
Avoiding an unpleasant task
It’s something that has little inherent value
About it no-one will ever ask.
It’s inherently long and complicated
Taking many days
I have found many other things to do
Wasting time in many ways.
Until today I have some motivation
I’ve cleared my frigging desk
There’s no intrusive tasks around me
I’ve got rid of every pest.
So, I fire up the Excel template
Ready to go berserk
And it seems there’s a password needed
To get the thing to work.
The designer’s away on leave this week
My frustration in vile and great
The document’s due on Friday
I guess mine will be late.
Procrastination has come back to bite me
And my frivolous use of time
If I’d just got in and done it
Then everything would have been fine.

Drawn for real experience, I had been putting off doing the school's budget. Then, as the deadline approached, I couldn't access the necessary documents. Grrrr!

The Dream of Flight

Ten long years have been worth it,
I’ve studied and I’ve fretted,
I’ve wrangled with coordinates,
Over examinations have I fretted.
I have spent tens of thousands,
I have worked day and night,
To obtain a pilot’s license,
And fulfil my dream of flight.
I have tandem piloted often,
I have passed every test,
Now I can officially fly solo,
The feeling will be the best.
And so I taxi down the runway,
Heeding the blue sky’s beckon,
There is no feeling like it,
Even in Heaven, I’d reckon.
I feel kin to the birds and clouds,
Gaining confidence fast,
When I have some company,
As a military plane comes past.
I see a wonder not expected,
Well, at least not so soon,
I am treated to a clear view,
Of a bright full moon.

The Chicken or the Egg?

What came first - the chicken or the egg?
I'll give you a philosophy booster,
I contend that it was neither,
The first to come was the rooster.

Just a silly rhyme that came from nowhere.

9:30 on Tuesday

Lazy fan blades swirl splendidly
Parrots chatter with vigour
The clock marks time diligently
Timing the postman's delivery.
People file through with their woes
Swarming like so many ants
The clock marks time diligently
Their time is soon at an end.
The phone chirrups positively
Announcing all manner of conversations
Lazy fan blades swirl splendidly
As conversations go around in circles.
Children file from place to place
Laughing good naturedly at each other
Parrots chatter with vigour
Hoping to be included in the conversation.

At 9:30 on Tuesday morning in my office at school (lots of phrases there) I just took some time out and wrote what I heard. I wish the explanation could be a bit more romantic? unconventional? desperate?

A Rainy Morning

Humidity gives the day a pregnant air
Laying heavy on man and beast
The clouds aren't anywhere to be seen
But I know that's just a ruse.
And from nowhere they rush onward
Blanketing me with their arms
Swiping away the humidity
And replacing it with calm.
The sweet smell of approaching rain
Encourages everyone to pause
And revel in its freshness
And look upwards expectantly.
People inspect their forearms
Wondering if that was rain
Or merely perspiration
Or something dropped from above.
Relieved, the dose is repeated
No bird is in sight
And the one spot joined by others.
The smell of rain intensifies
I can hear it careening towards me
The breeze drops momentarily
And the rain is here.
Misting at first with tenderness
Tentatively exploring its surroundings
Testing, searching, approving
And steadily increasing its presence.
The intensity continues to deepen
A sheer wall falls with intensity
Drenching and drowning with abandon
Giving without hesitation.
The first hint of abatement is given
The flow oscillates rhythmically
The differences in pace more apparent
As the clouds lose some heart.
They linger for some time
Happy to stay and embrace me
I know they will be dispersed soon
For ultimately, nothing lasts.

Akin to the last poem, this one was written as a storm hit. I reflected on what went on before and predicted how I would feel as it ended.

Vicious Cycle

I smile as you awaken
And you smile at me
You have forgiven me
For my recent sins.
I am currently contented
And looking forward
For I will again sin
You will again forgive me.
I follow my cruel invention
And release you into torment
For you know it's coming
You pursued me.
I sip from your pain
And find it exquisite
For it is what drives me
You sustain my very being.
I then come home early
And find that you have gone
For you have found some courage
You have left me again.
I know that you'll return
And beg for my forgiveness
For we compliment each other
You complete the endless cycle.

The Power of I

With my focussed attention;
The world slows
Blurs
Moves past with unhurried deliberance
Defying rationalism
Taunting
Challenging me to dispute this
But struggle I will
Determined
I will be victorious
Life is finite
Defined
Subject to the laws of nature
I will understand
Development
Of myself will be my saviour
I shall overcome, reaching
Enlightenment.


Written while really drunk, the "With my focussed attention; The world slows" bit came first, because I was concentrating so hard, but everything seemed so slow. Using the first few words as the inspiration, I just kept going with the feeling.

Betrayed

You came to me in trouble,
A dark cloud over your head,
You had been persecuted, apparently,
I nurtured you instead.
When others smeared your reputation,
Your worth I did advocate,
I allowed you to be different,
I allowed you to be late.
I tolerated your eccentricities,
I patiently gave you all,
I was there to help you always,
I was there to catch you fall.
I have recently solved your problems,
But you didn’t tell me that they stayed,
You have then been bad-mouthing me,
And I just feel betrayed.

This week a staff member, who I have been a strong advocate for, despite her reputation and the bridges that she burnt at school, chose to do something nasty to me. The poem was written when I felt, well, betrayed.

A Night in the Office

A paper clip danced across my desk,
Happy not to be straight,
The clock marked time upon the wall,
Measuring the tardiness of those late.
The hole punch was making holes,
That’s what it’s prone to do,
The Post-it’s hung on, then escaped,
The likes of me and you.
The pencils honed themselves razor sharp,
The pens hid under their lid,
The rubbers (erasers) were is a disgusting mood,
I’ll not tell you what they did.
The paperwork completes itself,
And for once the paper’s right,
But so you’re not aware of it’s sentience,
The words fade with the early light.
The mouse was minding it’s own business,
Until along came a mouse so real,
Who was in an amorous mood,
So he tried to cop a feel.
The monitor entertained all and sundry,
With “interesting” internet sites,
These and other things all occur,
On your desk at night.

During a calm moment I looked down at my desk and thought, "I wonder what happens on here at night?" Then, I had the urge and I started writing.

Hello, Pleased to Forget You

I’d like to introduce myself,
But I can’t remember my name,
I try to grasp such things,
But the result is always the same.
I see people inside my life,
Their faces I should know,
But when I try to access them,
Like smoke they quickly go.
The pain on people’s faces,
Moves me to the point of tears,
I know that we’ve lived together,
Through these precious years.
But I don’t know any of them,
The images here won’t stay,
I meet so many new people,
Each and every day.
I feel guilty that I don’t know them,
My expression wry and bemused,
But the onslaught of new people,
Just leaves me dazed and confused.
So, if you see me on the street,
Walking, or in a car,
Please stop and say hello,
But I won’t know who you are.

My daughter and I were talking about people and she said, "I just keep forgetting his name." She kept colouring, I started writing.

I Know You’re Leaving

I know you’re about to go
You told me some time before
You told me your reasons
I accepted them without comment.
The day lumbers ever closer
Once a blur on the horizon
Now surprisingly close
I can see the skin on its teeth.
You kiss me sadly on the cheek
Off to embrace your destiny
I wave with detached abandonment
Still not accepting what I see.
Take care in that bustling metropolis
Your senses exploding with delight
I’ll be waiting here patiently
Nothing will have changed.


Charlie was going away for a few days to a large city. I wondered what it would be like for a small town person watching his love leave for the Big Smoke, expecting her to return.

Bed-Side Advertising

Guilt walks along grasping me tightly
Like warms satins on the mattress
Clinging with a shameful intensity
Pointing an accusing finger.
Mist marks the moment of mischief
Like a road-side advertisement
My hair’s not wet or even damp
But the shower has been in use.
Burnt-down candles shout from the bedside
Like street lamps just extinguished
Daylight replaces the secret erotic lighting
So you can see what has occurred.
Tears swell and swirl softly
As you drink in these painful potions
I see that you have seen all
But I know it wasn’t my fault.

Amazing the amount of people that read this one and asked if everything was OK. I had been watching a TV show "McLeod's Daughters" and there was a storyline about an affair. It got me thinking about them. A girl I went out with once cheated on me. I found out when I dropped over to see her unexpectedly one morning and all the evidence was there - stains on the sheets (the guy must have had stamina), the mist in the shower, the candles and two wine glasses by the bed. I cried. She denied it, then said it was my fault. That was the end.

I can still remember the verbal exchange:

So, it seems there's another rooster in the hen house.

No, you're paranoid.

Why are there stains on the bed?

I missed you. I've been taking care of my own business.

Then splashed yoghurt over the bed?

*venomous look*

Why is there mist in the shower?

I was cleaning it.

Well, I guess you made it dirty.

*evil look*

What about the candles?

I was in a romantic mood.

And the empty wine glasses?

I had one last night and one the night before. I hadn't got around to cleaning up.

Obviously. You're scum. I'm leaving.

Well, if you were a better person I wouldn't have to look for comfort elsewhere. I thought you loved me.

I do.

Then why don't you fight for me? Go over and punch him out.

If you loved me I wouldn't have to fight for you. I'm leaving.

Hence, why I could never forgive a lover for having an affair.

Smiles

The parent thundered into my office
Fit to scream for a while
I gave him the most precious gift
I shared with him a smile.
The teacher was fit to resign
Her enthusiasm was dispersed
I sat down and was positive
And my smile became hers.
A student was set to fight
His anger couldn’t be compared
We talked through all the issues
And my smile was then shared.
Sometimes our attitudes are negative
And hopelessness shines through
But find a smile and share it
And it will come right back to you.

In a good mood, on a Friday at work, I was smiling at everyone and getting them back. There you go.

I'm an Idiot

My nice, shiny, new amp came home
With me in the car
A new depth of home hi-fi
Surround sound wherever you are.
I plugged the connections in carefully
Put the wire 'round the room
Hung the speakers deliberately
These suckers would really boom!
I then inserted a DVD
Waiting for the magic to work
Only two channels out of six
Seemed to want to work.
For an hour a fitted and fiddled
Rewired and rewired again
But no matter what I did
The result was still the same.
So, I went to bed disheartened
And dreamed of how I'd failed
I slept poorly through the night
And was awake when morning was hailed.
I tried again in the morning
Nothing had been changed
So, I figured I'd add my CD player
As the room I rearranged.
I put in a favourite CD
And wound it up rather loud
And to my bewildered surprise
This is what I found:
The minor channels are much softer
Than the other two
They only kick in with volume
This I'm telling you.
The bastard thing was working
And now DVDs I cannot stop
At least I'm only an idiot at home
And didn't prove it in the shop.

Self-explanatory, really. That's pretty much how it happened. But, it works now and I'm happy. For a while. You can't have enough toys.

Sunday Night Blues

I have been reckless all weekend,
My bones so deeply ache,
My mind is yawning internally,
I'm ready for a break.
My head hits the welcoming pillow,
The breeze from the window cool,
My mind that was so recently tired,
Has drifted to thoughts of school.
I hate the way that this happens,
I'm weary for goodness sake!
But inevitably on Sunday nights,
'Til the early morning I'm awake.
I think of the fun we've had,
Playing on the beach,
Showing my girls how to swim,
And then I think of "teach".
And how the teachers at our school,
Have to do certain tasks,
I'm back again thinking of school,
And all the problems that it asks.
I try to read a book for a while,
That should make me weary,
But my mind drifts back to school,
Until my eyes are bleary.
I then lean over and turn off the light,
And sigh into my bed,
And think of things I have to do,
And school's back into my head.
At some point though I'll drop off,
But go to work so tired,
And not get done the things I wanted to,
Before the day's expired.
I spend so much time contemplating,
The week that's before me,
That I'm then too tired to get it done,
I guess that's called irony.

Unfortunately all too real. Sunday nights are the pits. No matter how tired I get I can't sleep because I'm mulling over stuff that needs to be done. No point getting upset about it - I'm a sleepy slob the rest of the time.

World Problems Solved

The world comes into sharper focus,
Women now I understand,
Einstein was almost right,
But his work needed my hand.
I've solved Africa's starvation crisis,
The deserts I can irrigate,
I can reconcile the warring nations,
This now seems to be my fate.
This alcohol has made me brilliant,
No longer a mere sheep,
I can solve the world's problems,
But first I need a sleep.

I awaken with a terrific hangover,
Remembering something about last night,
But I have no idea what it was,
It evaporated with the morning light.

Often I have crazy ideas when intoxicated. I was thinking that I wondered if I had good ones, but lost them.

New Things Suck

I'm currently frustrated with the world,
It seems that everything today,
Is designed to break down,
And then be thrown away.
A case in point happened yesterday,
A tragedy to all and me,
When we had a family break-down,
With the player of the DVD.
We bought it fifteen months ago,
The discs could not be read,
We took it in to be repaired,
And were told it was now dead.
The repair bill would be prohibitive,
The fault was a laser head,
For the two hundred dollars needed,
We could buy a new one instead.
So for less than two hundred dollars,
I bought one better than the last,
It's sound and picture quality superior,
I'll forget the old one fast.
But I know that in fifteen months,
We'll be in this place again,
Things don't seem to last,
I guess I'll worry about that then.
But we have several video players,
The new ones are so fragile,
But the twenty-year-old one keeps going,
Better than the others by a mile.
So, am I being too cynical,
Expecting the new ones to fold?
Or do today's things not last long?
Or am I just getting old?

The DVD player refused to work yesterday. Our local appliance guru worked out that the difference between repairing the fifteen month old one and buying a new one with better technology was $10. No contest, really. However, five of my friends who all bought them at the same time have all had to replace theirs over the last three weeks. Strange.

Corpse Love

You smile your winning smile,
Your lips a glistening red,
But I see them peel outwards,
Because for months you have been dead.
Your arms clasp mine affectionately,
Guiding me to our bed,
The flesh sloughs off in rabid ribbons,
The nightmare rocks my head.
You hold me close to your body,
The pustules strain and break,
Your putrid flesh stains and revolts me,
And forms a rancid lake.
I can see through your desiccated skull,
Your head is void of matter,
Your skin is marred and marked and mottled,
From your death throe's splatter.
You repulse me, but I'll remain,
Our love is just a lie,
What we had has been long dead,
But with fortitude I'll get by.
I know you've been sleeping elsewhere,
I'll continue because I must,
Until I can leave with impunity,
Then all you'll see is dust.

This one’s a bit like the vampire love poem. I was watching "The Mummy Returns" and there’s a scene where a woman kisses the animate corpse of Imhotep. I was thinking of what would make someone be ok with that. Then, I was thinking if your love had died, that’s what you’d figuratively be doing.

Hairy

I was sick of shaving every day,
So I merely stopped,
No more razors and shaving cream,
Needed when we shopped.
The whiskers revelled in their freedom,
Living on easy street,
They blossomed and accelerated,
Now they reach down to my feet.
I've given up wearing clothes,
Them you could not see,
Now you can't differentiate,
Between a St Bernard and me.
Cousin It had nothing on,
The Furry One that is me,
I rustle when the wind blows,
In a whispering symphony.
I deposit hair wherever I go,
And somewhat like a snail,
You can tell where I have been,
Because I leave a trail,
But although I have saved some money,
On shaving and hair cuts too,
What I've saved has then been spent,
On conditioner and shampoo.

You Fill Up My Senses

I love the way your eyes see me,
Reflecting our good natured fun,
They way they promise without fear,
And see the good times to come.
I love the way your nose wrinkles,
Drinking in every scent,
Matching them to our life together,
And of the places that we went.
I love the way your ears strain,
To capture every sound,
The giggles, the whispers, the moans and laughter,
In my pleasures you abound.
I love the way you taste the moment,
And savour every bite,
The way you appraise every morsel,
From the break of day to night.
I love the way you touch my skin,
With revered eccentricity,
You transform me with your touch,
And its electricity.
You fill up my senses so completely,
In ways I can't explain,
I hope I'm not like John Denver,
And crash in a light plane.

I was writing about how someone fills up your life and the senses idea seemed good. The filling up of the senses bit came next. Then, I thought of Denver and how it was tragic the way he died.

Saturday Night

Saturday night was again upon us,
A relaxing night ahead,
The kids had kissed us good night,
And toddled off to bed.
The phone chirruped with alarming urgency,
Charlie let out a moan,
She was watching her favourite program,
But it was me on my mobile phone,
"Now you're up get some chips,
And some chocolate I think,
And while you're in the kitchen,
I'd like another drink."

Apparently there’s a TV ad that uses the same idea. Maybe I should be in advertising. Anyhow, I was sitting in my lazy boy, needing a snack and another bourbon, wondering how I could get Helen to do it without getting slapped. I didn’t do it, but thought the idea was amusing.

Mowing

The rain had been thick and constant,
The world covered in grass,
It was growing absolutely everywhere,
I suspect even on my arse.
The mower had been standing idle,
Not needed in the drought,
But now it was expected to perform,
Beyond the shadow of a doubt.
I straddled the machine with deliberation,
Let off a nervous fart,
I prayed to God it would operate,
That this monstrosity would start.
It awakened with a reluctant roar,
Black bile belching out,
I punched the air with my delight,
And pealed off a mighty shout.
We thundered over hill and gully,
Leaving mulch behind,
We mowed everything in our path,
We mowed all that we could find.
A cane toad hopped away furiously,
For it's life it did beg,
We hit it at twenty miles and hour,
Its remnants showering my leg.
I zapped around fallen logs,
The speed set to high,
I slalomed through the native trees,
Until one poked me in the eye.
I mowed the back of the dam,
Letting forth thunderous peals,
Until for a moment I lost control,
And was up on two wheels.
Vertigo clammily clasped my spine,
I thought I was in a dream,
That I'd joined an evil circus,
And was in the Precision Driving Team.
Time slowed down, then slowed again,
Like it never had before,
I was able to gain control,
And continue on wheels numbering four.
I admit I had been scared,
My Chi had bullied my Zen,
But next time 'round I went faster,
So that I could do that stunt again.
I was levelling grass and branches,
From the tiny to the fat,
Until I stopped paying attention,
And mowed my sunglasses and my hat.
I stopped to refuel my maniacal machine,
It was surely running low,
I added some lubricant and some methanol,
To give it that extra go.
I continued to level all before us,
Over five acres did we roam,
Until I got off to get some plastic,
And the mower went on alone.
It bore a grudge for its rough treatment,
Retribution made it feel fine,
I'm not as fast as my blasphemous beast,
Now I have toes numbering nine.

Most of this is true – the need to mow after lots of rain, the going up on two wheels, the black smoke when it started, chasing toads, running over my hat, getting poked in the eye. I lead such an interesting life, sometimes …

Don't

Don't laugh when I'm not happy
Don't smile when I am sad
Don't whistle when I'm frightened
Don't appease me when I'm mad.
Don't comfort me when I'm crying
Don't finish for me what I began
Don't applaud me when I'm successful
Don't call me a wonderful man.
Don't fix me when I'm broken
Don't humour me when I complain
Don't embrace me when I'm like this
Don't ask me to explain.

Sometimes I come home cranky and don’t want nothing from no-one. I realized this one day when I was calm and started writing the poem, then couldn’t stop. In addition, sometimes I just can’t be placated, because I’m indefinably angry. I think that this poem reflects this attitude.

Friday Afternoon

The fan is giving me a tempo,
My bladder's at the top,
The clock is counting down the seconds,
Until this agony can stop.
I can't leave just at the moment,
What will they think of me?
If the principal leaves before the kids,
It's not even three!
But Friday is at its completion,
A good week's work I reckon,
I can taste the bourbon waiting,
As the weekend begins to beckon.
I know I should stay longer,
I know I'm getting slack,
I think I'll create a diversion,
And sneak out 'round the back.

Love is a Turtle

Love is like a turtle,
Men have a sturdy shell,
So they have somewhere to hide,
When their woman yells.

Love is like a turtle,
For time it surely drags,
And just like the turtle,
Love chokes on plastic bags.

Love is like a turtle,
This message God brought us,
Love is often confused with sex,
And the turtle with the tortoise.

Audit

The Auditor called recently,
To discuss what was in store,
It seemed we were being audited,
My jaw fell to the floor.
We hid the purchase of new cars,
And the trips to the Bahamas,
We concealed the cases of Bordeaux,
And the silk pyjamas.
We went into the Teachers' Lounge,
And removed the heated spa,
We disposed of our frequent flier miles,
From the trips abroad and afar.
We cancelled the delivery of fine foods,
Everyone hid their laptop,
We took home our Cuban cigars,
And to long lunches put a stop.
We archived our school resources,
Putting them in secure store,
We feigned ignorance to their existence,
Like so many times before.
The auditor was quite concerned,
"This school is in the past,
We need to allocate much more to them,
Send cash and send it fast."
So, now everything has been returned,
And the school has a modest gain,
Now, please excuse me leaving now,
I have to catch a plane.

The school was having a financial audit and I just extended the idea to include all sorts of funds mismanagement, but in a way that the people weren’t caught and that the school would benefit.

Rain

The wind caresses the wearied flora,
Massaging their stressed exterior,
Rain has been scarce lately,
But the air carries an expectant promise.
The wind dies off with abrupt intensity,
Humidity strangles the air,
The earth and its dwellers hold their breath,
It seems prayers will be answered.
The sky darkens with gradual determination,
The clouds assembling in order,
They agree to disseminate their burdens,
Gently, but then with urgency.
The earth sighs its passionate thanks,
Young animals somewhat confused,
The rain renews faith in Nature,
As a benevolent force.
Water burbles and bubbles excitedly,
Soaking, seeping, running rampant,
The tired and dusty film clinging to everything,
Is replaced by a vibrant sheen.
The water runs down leaves and branches,
Forming miniature torrents on trunks,
That run down the parched bark,
And form burgeoning foam at the base.
People run naked outside with arms upstretched,
Allowing themselves to be bathed,
Taking a heathen joy at the gift,
Offered to alleviate their depression.
Crops are saved or at least reprieved,
Animals slated for slaughter or sale,
Given another chance at continued life,
As they can now be fed.
Children waltz at their fortunes,
Adults smile and remember,
Wondering why they stopped doing that,
Then join in, laughing.
Dams swell with unabating vigor,
Replacing dinner plate cracks,
With cool, clear water,
Then teeming aquatic life.
For now the memory of dryness recedes,
As life languishes in liquid,
But hard times will eventually return,
So we can appreciate the good.

We hadn’t had rain for 7 weeks and things were very dry and dead. Then, we got 7 inches in four days. This poem was an attempt to capture the way that I felt.

Ancient One

You lean with exhausted posture,
Your skin replete with weathered crack,
You have borne the winds of change,
With resoluteness in your back.
You're both scruffy and full of life,
You grasp at the crumbling earth,
You have had to fight for your existence,
Since the moment of your birth.
You rejoice at the sun's touch,
You sigh under the intermittent rain,
You shelter those who wish it,
For no hope of material gain.
You take a little from what's around,
But give for all to see,
You are there and I appreciate you,
You noble, ancient tree.

We have some gnarled old bottlebrush tree close to the house. Their bark looks like gnarled elephant skin. They inspired this poem.