Rain Bop

Rain Bop

Green hides only deeper green,
raindrops playing hide and seek
in leaves that just can’t wait to be found
and we are so sick of the gray skies
and gloom: we want to go outside
but look, sadly, through streaked windows.

In dry places, people are crying for rain

We remember only tears and pain.
People sing of migraines.
Ball players toss wet balls and crawl
into dugouts, dripping with loss or victory:
what matter. We are drowning.
Levees are breaking and floods engulf fields.
We change our screen savers to desert scenes
and listen because we were told that

In dry places, people are crying for rain.

The meteorologists barely muster a smile
when they promise, that the end of the week
may hold a glimmer of blue.
What is blue? we ask one another, having forgotten.
It is green without yellow, a wise one speaks.
It is hope without ribbons. It is knowledge:

In dry places, people are crying for rain.



See http://blog.writersdigest.com/poeticasides/2011/05/12/WDPoeticFormChallengeTheBop.aspx

April 30 last day leaving

This poem has been removed. Please email me if you want to read it.