Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “rain”

Tree Dreams

Trees dream of summer too.
Of days filled with the laughter of tender leaves
and singing rain.
Alive with the heart beat of hummingbird wings
and the mingled perfume of warm earth,
wild flowers, and ripe berries.
Stripped and slumbering the trees bide, knowing
one day the sun will rise with new warmth,
the wind will have dulled his teeth
from gnawing on ice and snow,
and water will chuckle once more.
But for now, the trees sleep on,
visions of summer yet to be
safe within their rings.


‘Round My Door

There are daisies ‘round my door,
purple daisies ‘round my door,
nodding as the errant drops
land upon their sunny tops.

Raindrops like a leaky faucet
running a Rube Goldberg gauntlet
threading convoluted jigs
through aspen leaves and willow twigs.

Slither, plummet, then rebound
another inch towards the ground.
Gravity is gently calling
to the raindrops wildly falling.

Closer now they group then dash
apart in one last valiant splash
and leap one more time before
they bop the daisies ‘round my door.
The purple daisies ‘round my door.


After the Rain

Mornings after rain
are filled with new beginnings,
sunlight, and wonder.

Sunlight through water
kindles rainbows and a dream
to follow ‘til night.

Night brings the release,
sparks and rumbles in the dark
‘til morning shines through.




Dewdrops steam
Into a dream
of cloud ascension
‘til suspension
bursts the dam and sets them free.

Raindrops dripping,
splashing, stippling
pond and puddle
washing mud filled
tributaries to the sea,

tithe the tidal
aqueous idyll,
water grumbles,
roars and rumbles,
every form and size and shape

Flume and fountain,
spilling, spouting
torrents gush,
and rivers rush
to estuarial escape.

Waves come reaching
‘cross the beach and
claw the sand
with hungry hands,
draining freshet, rill, and runnel

salty, swollen
sated ocean
‘pon reflection
pays respect in
cloudy offerings to the sun.

Clouds grow heavy
break the levee
drown the world
with water swirling
downpour, outpour, rippling rain.

And in the first
refreshing burst
the raindrops strike
and start the cycle
tithe and tears and tithe again.

Farmers’ Market

With basket empty,
Farmers’ Market bound am I
to fill the basket.

Whole grain bread, honey,
eggs, tomatoes, yellow beans,
Into the basket.

Unpack the basket
taste the sunshine, soil, and rain
of the Peace Country.



Live Again

What good is sunshine in a windowless room?
How do you know if it’s raining outside?
What good is wrangling over maybes and coulds?
How do you know if there’s truth in the lies?

But one day the sun’s gonna work its way
through roof and wall and light it all
and the rain will wash it away.

What good are windows if they just face a wall?
How do the trees find a place they can play?
What good is staring at the same set of facts?
How many bricks are in a day?

And one day the trees are gonna eat their way
through roof and wall and turn it all
into molehill mountains once again.

What good, How do you do what you do
when you know that nothing’s ever gonna change on it’s own.
How do, what good is waiting for the rain,
and the sun, and the trees, because all of these
are waiting for you too.

Climb a tree, touch the rain
feel the sun on your face
and never wait to live again.



Spring Hopes

Hope springs eternal
Spring hopes are eternal too
That’s why we garden.

Though deer nibble shoots,
bugs skeletonize leaves and
aphids slurp plant juice,

late frosts breath icy death,
too much rain, or too little,
drown and parch in turn.

Quack grass strangles roots,
the wind sucks the soil dry,
and slugs vandalize.

Northern gardening
has it’s challenges, it’s true
but hope springs, Spring hopes.



Sunshine after Rain

Roses and RainWhat a state of grace is the first sunlight glinting on the wild rose. What a sigh of relief after days of droning rain!

Just as predicted the sun came out this morning and bathed the sodden landscape with warmth and the promise of summer bliss.

Sunshine After Rain
Earth steams and streams
from beneath the rains,
pendant prisms
quiver in the breath of darkness passing
casting rainbows aside,
they dive down the back of my neck,
cool clean rivulets, I become
just one more facet of her terrain,
my name a distant whisper
drowned in the sound of wind in the trees
as she shivers them free
and sighs.

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