When the glory of fall has passed, I still walk, often in the rain.
I have heard about how rain affects people in different locations differently; some are downright jubilant about its coming. I wonder if living in the soggy southwest of Canada (/ northwest of the U.S.) would dampen their enthusiasm.
Walking in the rain
“… the rain … is pouring down, humming and tapping the floor. … It is getting fragrant. I am barefoot, dancing, jumping and running madly.” – Rizawa F. Syeda-Kazmi
Trees writhe, kowtow to squally air
rain beats tantrum gusts
races down roofline, puddles dance
the forecast—walk later, not now.
I leave between sobs
last tears damp and curl my hair.
Sky is soon weeping again
we are deluged in her woes
my hooded anorak
listens to the wet complaints.
Rain’s ally, the muddy Nicomekl
has claimed the flood plain
mallard couples glide where yesterday
they waddled through squishy grass.
I press on, blurry-eyed
needing wipers for my glasses.
Front steps glisten. Shake the misery
off leaden coat, hang it by the fire
and recall, incredulous
desert story of rain celebrations
where men drive to ditches, jump in
dance crazy, open-armed when sky drops water.
© 2013 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)
First published in Time of Singing – Volume 40 Intermezzo, Fall 2013
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This post is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by the one-and-only Jama, at Jama’s Alphabet Soup.
Violet Nesdoly 
Such a wonderful celebration of rain, Violet, even with the references to sobs, weeping, and misery. The part about “needing wipers for my glasses” made me smile. Been there.
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Thanks, Michelle. “Been there” – I think we all have.
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Violet, we experienced a spontaneous rainstorm that is as you wrote: Sky is soon weeping again/
we are deluged in her woes. We celebrated as you are doing! Bravo for capturing the feeling.
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Thank you, Carol. Deluges can be wonderful in the incredible way that thunder storms are—if you’re not walking through them, in my experience. Stay dry 😉
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Love your poem, such original observations. Smiled at “wipers for my glasses” and those waddling, gliding mallards. 🙂
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Thank you, Jama, and for hosting today.. so bravely through your disappointment. (Walking through rain is not only a physical thing.)
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UGH….winter in Vancouver is proof that there can be too much of a good thing when it comes to rain…thankful you for reminding me to try and find the poetry even in a gloomy day!
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Yep, it’s hard to be Pollyanna-ish forever. (Another monsoon in the forecast, I hear.)
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Having grown up in India, I love the rain…and your poem captures why.
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Tara, I love that you have the “love the rain” perspective. I know I felt it last summer when we had a long hot, dry spell and I was so-o-o ready for rain.
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I love how you’ve captured the feeling of walking in the rain. It’s never as romantic as it looks in the movies. The ducks show us how as does this poem.
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The romance quickly wears off when everything gets soggy and heavy and sticks to you. It would help to carry an umbrella, but I prefer walking in a raincoat.
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I can use some of that rain! It’s all about the perspective, isn’t it? We’ve learned that well this week in the U.S. Thanks, Violet.
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Thanks, Linda. “Perspective” is the perfect word here (and other places, as you mention).
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I love the way you brought in the desert at the end. Rain: always too much or too little, it seems! Ruth, thereisnosuchthingasagodforsakentown.blogspot.com
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Thanks, Ruth. When I wrote this, I had just heard a fellow who works in the Middle East describe the reaction to rain that I included at the end. And truthfully, as much as I complain about the rain, I’m glad I live in a place where it isn’t a rarity because the benefits of lush green are worth it.
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Beautiful! I like the line about needing wipers for our glasses and squally air!
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Thanks, Linda. Someone should invent those glasses wipers (or eave troughs for hats)!
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Yes, growing up in an arid region has left me with an entirely different relationship to rain than those who’ve lived with lush and wet all their lives. It still seems like a privilege to me, not a given.
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Thanks, MaryLee, and yours is the experience of many. Actually, growing up on the Canadian prairies, rain was also a mixed blessing. And there was no way to ensure that it came when you needed it, and stayed away when you didn’t.
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I love how the ducks glide a day after mud. Beautiful attention to detail & how a little rain makes a big difference.
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Thank you so much, Keri!
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