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After the Rain

Trees,
their leaves adorned with raindrop jewels,
heaving under the weight of the water,
bending low toward the rich,
wet dirt, they wait for the wind
to come and free them of their burden,
so they may once again reach
toward the misty gray heaven
speckled with starlight and
brushed with onyx.

Flowers,
with their open faces they breathe
in the richness of the rain,
suck in the moisture and stretch
gleefully toward the sun that is peeking
from behind the receding clouds,
shining praise upon bright purple,
red, burnt orange and yellow,
children of the Earth, they sing
silent songs of thanks.

The bird,
she emerges from her stick built nest,
first her head, testing the air,
she hops onto the tree branch,
gripping water soaked wood, she
shakes her tail feathers, looks once
back toward her safe home, her young,
she spreads her wings and dares to fly
through the moist morning air,
survival her motive.

I,
stand before my kitchen window,
cold even though the air around me is warm,
chilled from the thought of being outside.
Two stories below, the world is sodden, soaking,
the dripping trees, the flowers, the birds
shivering in the damp air, I watch them,
see how they react to the opening of the skies,
wonder at their resilience, their fragile strength.

Learn more about this author, Sarah Williams.
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