The rain fell all day

endless strands of gray pearls
and it seemed,
as it often does on a rain filled day,
that the world was tucked in
under the shimmering covers
while an unseen, larger-than-life window
was thrown open
to let the wild rain spirits in. — Annette Marie Smith


Raindrops Feather

Raindrops feather the air
with their diamond edges
and break themselves
like angel wings blown from glass
on the sidewalks and the grass. — Annette Marie Smith

Kenning the Rain

Do you have to be taught to smell the rain? My child posed that question to me.

Jas: “One of my earliest memories is of you pointing out the smell of rain to me. I hadn’t really noticed it until then. Do you think that’s something that has to be taught?”

I distinctly remember the day and moment my grandmother asked me:
“Can you smell that?”
“What?” I said.
“The rain coming,” said she.
“What does it smell like?” I asked.
“Like rust, like blood,” said she.
And then I DID smell it. The rain imminent and beautiful. I could smell the green in it too and all the blues, the darkness of smoke in liquid form…