08-30-2023, 03:09 AM
Rain
She walked through the corn
one grey cloudy day
touching the stalks and leaves
as she passed
twirling around the soft silk ends.
Beneath, the dry dirt softened
and congealed into paste,
the kind that squelches between toes
and forms the best mud pies.
She always spoke in a gentle whisper
that sounded like wind in the grass
or thousands of tiny feet tapping on glass.
The farmer loved her and looked for her
daily through the hot summer months,
but she was skittish and mercurial
and could not be bade or made to obey.
She was gentle but wild, an element at play,
in love with and loved by the earth.
She walked through the corn
one grey cloudy day
touching the stalks and leaves
as she passed
twirling around the soft silk ends.
Beneath, the dry dirt softened
and congealed into paste,
the kind that squelches between toes
and forms the best mud pies.
She always spoke in a gentle whisper
that sounded like wind in the grass
or thousands of tiny feet tapping on glass.
The farmer loved her and looked for her
daily through the hot summer months,
but she was skittish and mercurial
and could not be bade or made to obey.
She was gentle but wild, an element at play,
in love with and loved by the earth.
The Soufflé isn’t the soufflé; the soufflé is the recipe. --Clara