Rainy days

I like the rain. It smells clean. Rain makes me feel alive and as though everything in life is going to be ok. Right now it is raining. I need it.

I like the sound of people or vehicles moving through the rain. I like the sounds of pitter-patter on unoccupied ground. I like the air that is required in order for rain to exist.

The feeling of rain, mist, or a downpour on my face has the same effect - it makes me calm. I have no idea why this is. Does it matter? 

All that matters when it comes to things like this is that it brings peace, comfort, or healing.

I remember a couple of college roommates that went out of our dorm room gleefully to literally go and dance in the rain. They tried to get me to go, but I was too embarrassed for some reason. 

But now my son has just finished his afternoon nap... I think we need to go and dance in the puddles I see on the patio. After that, I think a walk in the rain is in order as well.

Poetry Corner: Pristine Pools

Here's stream of consciousness for you... The recent Salt Lake City temperatures make me want to take a nature trip, which makes me recall really loving a visit to Yellowstone National Park in 2005.

I was so inspired by the nature there that I wrote a lot of poetry on that trip. Here's a sampler:

Pristine Pools

treading the planks

of this forsaken land

I ponder the life and

death of all I see…

a boiling brew of earth

begins to drum erratically

occasionally gurgling its refrain,

as a foul misty stench

coats my skin with an unusual warmth,

my lungs begin to burn

elements combine,

molding everything together …

dying beautifully

deep within this fissure

I feel the foul heat begin to call –

an inexplicable urge to touch

the prismatic lake

ricochets

within me…

staring at the mouth wide open

I am temporarily paralyzed –

I feel my beauty fade

the longer I gaze, yet

I am captivated

by the subtle harshness

hidden between the vapor,

I remain –

looking into the clearest chasm

below the calm basin

images of terror dance off-beat

as the earth ruptures inward

while pain echoes,

migrating deeper

agitating the fragile balance

not yet ready to burst

not yet ready to take me…

I am suddenly released

with a promise

and a threat

Diana M. Bateman 

2005©