Recollection’s Keepsake

The night was burgeoning spring
bouquet, vigor refreshing, lighting
neural pathways evermore.
Face up was I, in splash dance
of misty drizzle, arms spanning
with palms receiving
myriad droplets.
It is to recall this moonless
nighttime performance,
to lock away
in brainwave patterns
a festive night-rain
partnership, a veil
of night with stars abed
and sun asleep beyond
foregone horizons.
The memories come back
surging like waves in tempest,
like thunder echoing firmament’s
canyons, like electric surges
as low-volt spine tingle.
Who could forget?
Night rain…apart from
crashing cascading,
rather than downpours
of cats and dogs,
a caressing, mistlike fall
of caring, a night with arms
extended, welcoming.
I remember that night,
as well as I remember
the rain.


32 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
4-15-20