I am a plaything
In the arms
Of the whispering wind.
She has charms.
Her summer breeze teases
Bringing delight.
But those who fight
The wind
When she is wild
Will find themselves a helpless child
Locked tight in arms
That have lost all their charms
And will pray
For the ungovernable wind
To stay her anarchic play
And the summer breeze
To gently tease once more.
But put no store
In that wild fickle thing,
The eternal wind.
I enjoy the sunshine
In early summertime
As I pass by tombs,
Stark and white
In the bright light.
I love the wild rain
And how it sound
Wraps me round
Calming my overheated brain.
Civilisation is an intricate clock.
But all clocks stop.
The dance ends my friend.
Listen to the rain
And watch the sun set.
The rain calls to me
To leave my technology.
It says, “you must go
To your hospital window”.
So I obey it’s command
And go and stand
Where the scent and sound
Of rain is profound
And I am whole again.
.
Copyright: Kevin Morris.
Sometimes I wish the rain
Would not cease.
It quiets my heated brain.
But the rain
Will cease. And I yearn for the peace
Of the steady drip, drip, drip of rain
To return again
And cool my heated brain.
The rain has come.
Some wait for the sun.
I wonder about thunder
And think on the tree
Outside my window.
In all probability
It will outlast me.
Though storm may bring it low
Ere I go
To become as one with sun
And life-giving rain.
Warm in my bed
Thor’s great roar shook me
Out of my complacency.
These thoughts in my head
Will die. But Thor
And the rain will remain.
This civilisation is in denial.
We hide behind technology
While the weather gods smile
At our naivety,
Biding their time
I shall stand aside
And let the wind decide
And where the wind blows
I too will go.
This falling rain
Offers an excuse to remain
In the dry
Pub. So you and I,
Forgetting the rain,
Drink again.
Though we know
When we go
The rain
Will remain.
The nettles flourished in the rain.
When I came there again
Men had removed them.
Civilisation came.
Nettles and rain
Remain.
A poet entranced
By branches that dance
In summertime.
Lost in rhyme
he walks the same
Woodland path
After sweet rain.
Nature laughs
As branches pour
Forth their store
Of sweet summer rain
K Morris - Poet 