By Middle-School Blogger Morgan Richardson
Here in the desert, rain is not ordinary, but back in my home in chilly Oregon, rain comes on a regular schedule–like every day. All year long, the droplets would haunt my window. Now that I’ve become accustomed to the dry hot desert, rain is a blessing. From what I used to see as a warning of winter, I now see as a little glimpse of home.
A Rainy Day in the Neighborhood
Look through the window
Tears running down the glass,
The breeze has become
A wave of home at last.
My sister grinning and stomping her feet
Above the cherry tree, our eyes meet.
Slippery steps and squeaky boots,
The swings are soaked and of no use.
Snuggled up in my mermaid pajamas,
I hear the loud whistle of the train horn’s gallops.
I rest my eyes and drift to sleep
With the comfort of knowing
The rain drops will guide me through my dreams.
Thanks for sharing. I grew up in southern Italy, where rainy days are common in late fall, winter, and spring. I feel the same way.
This did bring back memories… that train horn:) A very sweet poem Morgan.
Beautiful! There really is a unique magic to rain in the desert in particular. The sweet scent of creosote and minerals unlocked from the sand.