Rain Symphony
If you thought a rainstorm was powerful...
I never knew the rain had so many friends… Look at them flying downward, up and around again, as they’re vacuumed into a jubilant kingdom of angel food cake clouds! Watch their wet fingers pry open a billowy urn of refreshing rains to drench parched flowers’ petal tongues, and the wrinkled arms of wizened trees; while yellow lawns rejoice as they turn from brown to green, suburban husbands break out their mowers to keep their backyards pristine. Skiing on the downdrafts, water bullets pitter-pat against buildings and swiftly gather in the street, to raise a rowdy ruckus whose applause soaks the annoyed pedestrian’s unprotected feet, befuddles cars and drivers and traffic slows to a crawl as your ambitions expire on the fumes of defeat. The snare drum rat-ta-tat-tat stipples on the sidewalk’s gritty pavement peals ripples of ecstasy across the city. Look at them run down drainpipes’ rusty gullets to flood the streets! See how huddled masses try to keep their asses dry as waterfalls of friends douse the earth in sheets!
When a droplet plops and raises a puff of dirt, that’s no cause for commotion; but amass billions of them and you got yourself an ocean that can push mountains aside, knock ice caps over, crack continents apart like saltine crackers, and reshape the world! Swirling whirling vortices see their targets below, which city will be the next to receive their fateful blow? Hell hath no fury, like a woman’s storm… just ask Katrina, Irene or Sandy. Remember Moses when he flew into a rage? All he did was say a few syllables in the magical language of Hebrew, and the Red Sea splashed across History’s page! Even Dylan once sang that a hard rain was gonna fall. (Wonder what was revealed to him after he signed his deal with the Supreme Commander?) And just when you thought the parking lot would be filled with cars for the morning commute, rebellious drops said: “no way, Jose, we’re flooding out this lot!” and you hydroplane back home without dispute. Look at them swoop upwards into the air, like Dante’s heavenly snow, magnetized and galvanized by each other, (those party animals!) into clouds which spread across a wall-smooth blue sky; morphing into majestic temples to Mount Olympus, which is always open for business to swallow souls that rush through its hallowed halls quicker than quicksilver through mercurial pipes!
Occasionally thunderous announcements crack open the clouds with rapiers of light which glisten with God’s agitated pronouncements… “What’s up with you beings? How many times must I show you how wayyyy more powerful I am than you? Why just one of these bolts can turn you into crispy smoked bacon in the blink of an eye!” Oh powerful clouds! Like unicorns on acid, the herd oozes across the sky, looking down at us as we go about our wayward ways; flowing through streets like anemic blood platelets, clustering at sporting events, rock concerts or political rallies, demonstrations, wars, or circling around the Kaaba like the stars around the Milky Way! Wow! check out how those sapphire waves swell and curl across the sea’s skin with almighty fortitude; and how they plunge the hapless surfer dude into a vortex of confusion and puppet-like ineptitude.
See transparent serpents slide into sewers, only to thrust their hoary heads through manhole covers. While little streams grow up to become a raging flood responding to the earth’s thirst for a transfusion of translucent blood… Remember what James Cameron sent from The Abyss? ETs underwater probe binge watched our rain of bullets, bombs and blood in order to feed an invisible army with this sacrificial flood; And prepared a campaign to turn us into floating pastrami by raising a thousand foot tsunami from every corner of the globe. (It still could happen if we’re not careful…) As all the waves subside, the raindrops flee outside with a “Yay” and a “Whee” to throw themselves into an invisible basket of air, which scoops them up into a blue-bowled, whipped cream palatial lair. Meanwhile, earth lets out a cool sigh to cleanse it’s weathered face, so that 7 billion lungs catch another breath to fuel the human race. The party is ready to start again! Oh, the things we could do if we were only like the rain…
Your poem lets loose a torrential downpour, V.P. and captures it all at the same time. Well done!
Great rhymes, shapes, and stories!