Once Upon a Time Poems

Rain

Rain swirls in a sphere of its own,
forming into rivulets on the window pane
with the sound of the heels
of a flamenco dancer,
flooding the sill
and rushing into the street
to do a fandango in a pothole,
so to fill it up
as if a tormented mirror
reflecting the gray clouds
and stone buildings
like sunken laments.

Rain is the blood of spring
with a fragrance of rebirth,
lifting up shivering moods,
weaving around stones
to sing a wake-up song to a seed
buried inside the soft soil.

Rain is as ancient as legends,
with wisdoms of old,
democratic too,
for it falls with equal intensity
on slums, suburbs,
and on any two sides at war.

Rain has a crystal soul
dripping from the gracious sky
to give the first leaves an emerald’s shine,
for it is a glaze with inner light
and tenderness of tears
washing the heart,
yet,
it dries away too quickly,
akin to a spontaneous portion of myself,
which splashes with delight
inside undulating puddles
but likes to get lost,
suddenly,
without an explanation.