Tuesday, 7 December 2010


“Healing rain is a real touch from God. It could be physical healing or emotional or whatever.” Michael W. Smith

Another busy at work today, interrupted only by a stroll to the shops at lunchtime as I wanted to busy some stationery. The Christmas shopping fever has started and the carols are to be heard everywhere, while the garish decorations are up and tinsel has spread like a lurid fungus over every available support. People are rushing everywhere buying every sort of shlocky merchandise, gimcrack gewgaws and kitschy contraptions. Christmas, bah – humbug! Well, at least as far as Christmas in the shopping centre is concerned. Passing by a church, a modest sign was declaring: “Peace, joy, love, good tidings – Christmas!” Now, that is more like the sort of Christmas message that I want to see…

It was a warm and rainy day again in Melbourne today and I avoided getting wet as I took my umbrella with me. Not that I had occasion to use it, but it is a well known fact that if you take your umbrella with you, it will not rain while you are out. Forget it and it is bound to pour! Nevertheless, once I was safely back in the office (and yes I had my umbrella with me, I did not forget anywhere), the heavens opened up and I was reminded of subtropical summer rains and tropical monsoons.

It is Poetry Wednesday today and I inspired by the falling rain and the train trip home in a packed commuter carriage:

Summer Rain

A leaden sky,
The heat oppressive.
The sweaty body next to me
Reeks of rue-scented sweat.
Sighs of discomfort in the crowd –
Short tempers and eyes so hard
They’ll even scratch a diamond.

Electric sparks
Seem to connect the floppy bodies
Of the commuters,
And if they touch perchance,
There is communicated tension
That erupts into disquietude,
Perturbation, conflict, quarrel.

A raindrop falls,
And then another, and another.
Big, fat, splashy drops
That coalesce and run in rivulets,
Soaking earth, wetting the concrete;
The asphalt steams and shines,
Catalysis occurs.

The atmosphere is cleaned,
The current stopped,
The static discharged,
The circuits shorted.

As blessed rain falls in sheets
I’m soaked and forget the fusty
Closeness of confinement
In packed commuter train carriage.

1 comment:

  1. Lovely poem as usual, Nicholas. I am glad the rain inspired you to write this and share it.