February 05, 2009


When people see rain,
it's "get the umbrella,"
"cancel the game," "close the window,"
"my new hairdo!"
When rain comes to the wild grasses
they lay back like expectant lovers,
Gopis awaiting Krishna,
and it's just the sky changing.
Just the gray massed clouds becoming dragons and mermaids,
fragrant with the next field over,
jolly with the surfeit of love.
And the Gopi grass hears one, two,
three splats on the head of the drum,
and then party!  It's Krishna, gaining momentum,
entering like the mayor in the small-town parade,
rolling in rain like the ship had come in,
drunk, timeless, out-of-grass-body
and in love with the rooted Earth.

Annelinde Metzner   copyright 2001

1 comment:

ruwonderful? said...

I love this poem.. I have always loved the rhythm and sound of this ode to rain. I hear the voice of linda reading this and it puts a grin on my big round moony face.
My love is awakened and hopeful to catch a glimpse of the royalty in the parade.

Post a Comment

Your comments are welcome!