Rainy Thoughts

Catherine Woodbury3

Today the rain is all she feels,

The clouds are all she knows;

Tomorrow’s sunshine on hope’s heels

Will reap what sorrow sows.

I Cried Today at Staples

barberry-rain.jpg

They asked me what kind of file folders

I would like. I eyed that wall,

boxes of files stacked like bricks

propping up crumbling dreams,

and I couldn’t stop them,

hot tears welling up unbidden,

indecision and nostalgia and sorrow

in liquid form. And I knew

it wasn’t the file folders –

not really. It was more

that after the check-out counter,

after smiling and making small-talk

with a smiling employee about

the weather and the Riders game,

after fighting traffic

and stopping for an iced frappé

on the way, I would carry the bags

and drop them off

with my son

at their new home,

leave them deposited there,

file folders marked ‘Memories’,

‘Fears’, ‘Regrets’; even the expanding

style can’t hold ‘Dreams I’ve Dreamed

for my Son Since He Was Born’,

or ‘Have I Given Him Enough

to Make Him a Man?’ So I stood

in aisle 4 and let the tears drip

until the labels swam, inked

puddles to be filed later.

Cohesion

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the principles of cohesion

which bind drop to drop

as your tears fall

like rain (showers

from heaven)

will hold you together

when you most feel

like you are

coming apart

Pulling Petals

Daisy in the dark

Childhood sits in meadow bower,

pulling petals from a flower –

Love me not, or love me well,

only days to come will tell.

Time moves on, and hope blooms bright,

but girlish dreams will die this night.

*

Maiden rests in meadow green,

pulling petals from their sheen;

dying, petals lose their bloom

as tears soak bridal glory’s tomb.

Time moves on, and hope fades fast,

the die is set, her fate is cast.

*

Mother sinks in meadow shade,

pulling petals in the glade;

habit tells her love belongs

to children and their hopeful songs.

Time moves on, and hope lies dead,

daisies, fringeless, sink like lead.

*

Woman weeps in meadow bare,

pulling petals which aren’t there;

empty heart bleeds petals past,

and bleeding, seeds its peace at last.

Time moves on, and hope renews,

as Wounded hands hold girl’s deep bruise.

Night-Time Gazing

night-time pine

Night-time gazing overhead

puts daily turmoil into place,

inky depths on silken thread

define the infinite of space;

and while my tears in silence fall,

I am but one on cosmic plane;

galaxies count such sorrows small –

I am but single link in chain.

Your Tears

Your tears sit on your cheeks,

pearls of inestimable value,

glittering sorrow diamonds

welling from a grief brutally honest

in its simplicity.

I see the beauty in its expression,

in the way each runs to its fellow

in its course to the forever sea.

There,

each drop finds a mate,

and runs free and true and wild,

restless waves lit by

the seafaring sun,

soothing distant shores

with its ancient lullaby.