It's late at night
And spring rains pummel
The skylights above me.
It's a modern variation
Of rain on a tin roof
That produces
The same result:
Deep relaxation
And slumberous eyes.
I seriously consider
The siren's call
Of my warm bed
As I struggle to finish
The next-to-the-last chapter
Of the mystery
I've been reading.
It's a losing battle, however,
And my head nods,
As the book falls to the floor,
Hitting the dog at my feet
Before landing cover down
On the braided rug.
I jerk awake
Then yawn an apology to the dog
Before rising to my feet
And picking up the book;
But before retiring
I step before
The rain-spattered bay window
And gaze out into the dark.
How I love rainy nights
Free of the drama of thunder
And lightening,
And I imagine the moisture
Soaking into the earth,
Nourishing the spring flowers
Already in bloom,
And hastening the growth of those
Still hidden within her womb.
Another yawn brings tears
To my exhausted eyes,
So I turn from the window,
And extinguish the lights,
And after calling the dog,
Make my way
To bed.