What is Left of the Rain

The storm last night was a hard one.
Full of fury and the wind of heat and cold
battling, two fronts fighting for the same territory.
Thunder. Lightning. And a hard rain.

And here we are, the morning after,
discovering the clear light of the aftermath.
A few limbs fallen, true. And a few petals stripped
from their flowers, but

the air is clean. You breathe it differently.
The colors, near and far, are sharp, vibrant
and there is a sense of promise
in what is left of the rain.

About this poem

Inspired by going outside this morning after a cold front came through last night. It reminded me of the rough stretches in my life, and how, not during, but after, I ended up seeing differently.

I almost titled this “The Clear Light of the Aftermath.”

The photograph was taken on the side of the road, just down the street here in West Pawlet, VT.

Tom