Skirts of Rain

I am skirts of rain on weeping willows old;
patter perfect minor chords, hand spanned
painted sunbeam in the master’s memory of gold
washing clean this cracked and brittle land.

Patter perfect minor chords, hand spanned…
I conduct of draping leaves a dance of grace;
washing clean this cracked and brittle land,
mirror to the clouded pearl of sky’s embrace.

I conduct of draping leaves a dance of grace.
Her silvered flowing scarves are silken art,
mirror to the clouded pearl of sky’s embrace
soothing thirsted soil and sun-dried heart.

Her silvered flowing scarves are silken art -
painted sunbeam in the master’s memory of gold.
Soothing thirsted soil and sun-dried heart,
I am skirts of rain on weeping willows old.