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.
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.
I love the humility in your poetry. It invites me to unpuff my chest and I appreciate that 🙂
Oh, time gives the most gentle perspective. I love the sound of summer rain. I miss it.
“The only heroics, then, like now, is being still enough to know the sound of summer rain.” Brilliant. Thank you.
Mmm. I’m a first born too and this rings with familiar feelings. Thank you for reminding.
Lovely.
Beautiful
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