Spring Rain

Staccato drops hammer the canopy

Few reach my bush hat’s brim

Caught and splintered on broad leaved maples

Arbutus, oak and fir

A fractured umbrella of a thousand parts

While I inhale damp dust

Moistened tree spunk finally getting hosed down

After the rites of spring

The smell, sharp and soft at the same time

Inhale through nostrils diaphragm deeply

Exhale from mouth sharing breath with a living web

I stride through green tunnels

Where waves of foliage curl trails into lightpipes

Up to hilltop meadows

Horizons to explore

Reading weather signs in leadening clouds

While rumbling thunder punches a black eye

Into the sunset

Shards of lightning sparkle like lost sequins

Catching a tomorrow light

Rain easing, I return

David Trudel   © 2013

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