听 雨
by 作舟
Panting. . . . I finished
my midday run just in time
. . . .
Drops of rain start
falling . . . . first, a mist
through the lukewarm
air and a mixture of this
world's noise . . . .
Now the sky is smoldering
with quick, unseen fires
as well as numerous slow
guttural mutterings
. . . .
Gasping for air . . . . my naked
arms and legs feel
the burn when it begins
to fall in earnest . . . . I am
gulping down the cool
breeze in the midst. . . .
This music
of an unexpected shower
splattering on the tin roof
is the most soothing
and flirtatious. . . .
This drama
beyond human power
seems to mock our endless
buttoned-up-desires
that you and me
used to hide at the bottom
of the drawer.
When the body
is properly spent
the mind begins
to wander on the soft spoken
land of imagination
or fly like a feather
over a good tempered
ocean . . . .
I take out the pen and
notebook stashed in the makeshift
outdoor study and started
recording the sound
in ink . . . . believing
that such little blessings
are being showered upon
all wakeful souls
who we call
father, mother
brother, sister
son or daughter
. . . .
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