Wednesday, December 28, 2005

Grey winter

There was no white Christmas this year
No frosted window pane
The ski runs are closed and the hills look naked
All bare grass and trees
The rain sploshes on our noses as we start to run
From parked car to building
Prancing and sidestepping deep puddles
Round bits of grey sky
We exchange wordless glances as we run — we'd rather
Be out here dancing

There's no reason not to take a shower
Here in the wide open
Let the rain sing its way over our skins
In rivulet harmonies
Scatting drops to weave among
Percussive splats
The riffing rain sings to the rolling hills
Its own kind of blues
And, laughing, we dance our own kind of dance
In the falling music of grey winter


Blogger Brenda said...

It is a night very much as you describe, rain pouring, large puddles, which I quietly splashed about in in my boys size 6 walmart construction-style boots and which my dog wetly raced about in, even as we met my teens returning from a sojourn for a take-out dinner, doing our own kind of dance. See how your poem has set me off dancing too! It's a beautiful, joyful writing, expansive...

12/28/2005 6:03 PM  
Blogger Mary said...

splash, splash ... :-)

12/28/2005 11:53 PM  
Blogger EATING POETRY said...

I love this poem... it just flows so well and captures the mood perfectly. The first line is great, it draws the reader into the poem.

12/29/2005 6:22 AM  
Blogger Rexroth's Daughter said...

You remind me of the walk I took in the rain yesterday to our mailbox. More like light shower, as soft as the grey sky itself. The only time I don't take the camera with me is when it's raining. Trip to mailbox and back 1/3 of a mile, and a zillion things to see.

12/29/2005 8:23 AM  
Blogger Anna Piutti said...

Very nice, I could almost hear and feel the rain while reading the second stanza.

12/29/2005 11:49 AM  
Blogger snowsparkle said...

dance our own kind of dance in the falling music of grey winter..... love this! my son and I have a tradition of dancing naked in the cold and rain, early on new years mornings. I'll be thinking of your poem this coming sunday.

12/29/2005 1:03 PM  
Blogger mermaid said...

"Let the rain sing its way over our skins
In rivulet harmonies
Scatting drops to weave among
Percussive splats
The riffing rain sings to the rolling hills
Its own kind of blues"

Loved, loved, loved these lines. Nature's Symphony is some of the best music out there.

12/29/2005 2:31 PM  
Blogger MB said...

Brenda, I would've thought you'd be up to your knees in snow! It makes me smile to think of you and yours dancing in the rain, too.

Mary, splish, splosh! Your comment made me laugh. What is there about taking joy in rain that seems so childlike? Why should it be childlike?

EP, thank you. I'm pleased that you enjoyed the poem.

RD, perhaps you need an umbrella for your camera? I can imagine you taking full and wonderful advantage of a camera on that 1/3 mile.

Anna, grazie. It makes me happy to know you felt the rain.

12/29/2005 3:29 PM  
Blogger MB said...

Snowsparkle, and I'll think of you and your son out there in the rain... but there's blue sky today, the first in a while. BLUE!

Mermaid, it is indeed some of the finest music. And trying to convey that kind of music via words is challenging - I'm grateful that it worked for you.

12/29/2005 3:32 PM  
Blogger zhoen said...

I'm Dreaming of a muddy brown Christmas. Sure beats the ones with driving snow.

12/29/2005 4:14 PM  
Blogger Frankie said...

Gorgeous. I love "and, laughing, we dance our own kind of dance." Your imagery, rhythm and word choice never cease to amaze me.

12/30/2005 10:52 AM  
Blogger MB said...

Zhoen, perhaps. But not come spring when the land gets thirsty and there's nothing saved to drink!

Frankie, thank you. I'm grateful that you enjoyed this!

12/30/2005 12:42 PM  
Blogger Sue hardy-Dawson said...

Christmas in England is almost always like that, you have created beauty and humor where it was muddy wet and grey, lovely

1/05/2006 11:11 AM  
Blogger MB said...

It's been wetter here than usual, though we almost never get a white Christmas anyway. I used to live where it was almost continuously wet. That gets tiresome, but it all has its own beauty if we can only choose to see it! Glad you enjoyed it, Sue. Thanks for stopping by.

1/05/2006 11:40 AM  

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