O rain, O rain, who ever often greets my days,
And in my garden, showers joy upon my flowers,
I see your raindrops fall like enigmatic feathers
descending on my lawn while alluring my gaze.
And yes, o rain, you captivate my ears as well.
Thus when I hear your droplets fall outside my window,
I look towards the sky in awe, with mucho gusto,
for having heard your melody, your magic spell.
And yes, o rain, you also take away my stress.
Though if I may, I must confess, that when you come,
It feels like heaven’s doors appeared above my home,
as if the angels danced to form a clouded mess,
more like a mass of plumage cluttered in midair.
And I, o rain, can’t help but watch it from my room,
It’s like their wings are shaking, spraying their perfume,
or rather, spattering their plumes to form a stair:
some sort of ladder for the dead to see then climb,
where they could rise and later shine when they meet God.
Though to my eyes, I only see your drops, not God..
I only see what I can see according to my time:
a clouded sky that I supposed that angels formed,
as to create a port, a passageway, to the unknown.
And yes, O rain, I must confess, that when you come
It’s like your drops are feathers from an angel’s wing,
but also that when I hear you, I hear the angels sing.
Written by: L.L.
Sept 7, 2014