Night Rain

Your Monday Vitamin

As we head into these Northern California dry summer months, this poem is especially poignant:

Night Rain

Like the first gods
emerging from the surf
the dogwoods
shed droplets of light.

And the puddles—they're silver keys
on the clarinet of our street.

Why should we close the windows
the way we close our minds
to thoughts of death.

Let this little dark,
this humble wet
shiver into our room.

Without silence
there is no music.

Let the silence
come.

Todd Dillard

with thanks to Only Poems