Summer Rain

It was the sound of summer rain
that woke me this morning.
And for an instant I was a boy
again listening to the rain through
a bedroom window slightly raised.
My brother, younger, in the twin
beside me breathed quiet as death.
Our parents down a short hall
murmured the things permissible
only when its dark and later. 
And I lay awake selfish, as usual,
dreaming of how I the first-born
hero would always save the
people in that red-bricked rancher.
But time tumbles and we grow flesh.
I cannot even save myself.
The only heroics, then like now,
is being still enough to know
the sound of summer rain.

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  1. Michele Morin on July 7, 2015 at 12:42 pm

    This is a terrific antidote to my own selfish dreams of self-salvation, a reminder to pray for grace to be still and know a good many things.

  2. Shaun C. on July 7, 2015 at 3:53 pm

    I love the humility in your poetry. It invites me to unpuff my chest and I appreciate that 🙂

  3. jodyo70 on July 7, 2015 at 5:07 pm

    Oh, time gives the most gentle perspective. I love the sound of summer rain. I miss it.

  4. allielousch on July 7, 2015 at 5:09 pm

    “The only heroics, then, like now, is being still enough to know the sound of summer rain.” Brilliant. Thank you.

  5. tonia on July 7, 2015 at 11:50 pm

    Mmm. I’m a first born too and this rings with familiar feelings. Thank you for reminding.

  6. Beth Impson on July 8, 2015 at 8:30 pm


  7. suzy Mae on July 16, 2015 at 5:11 am


  8. Summer Rain | depthofpoetry on July 31, 2015 at 4:57 pm

    […] via John Blase. […]

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