Rain ©Dawn Minott

On By Dawn MinottIn Poetry

Rain is precious
Not just water—
When meted out in the right measures, a treasure

I remember, as a child
The first few drops on parched ground
drinking like it had been waiting for forever and then—steam
Lifting up, escaping
And the smell?
It was like earth opened her chest and breathed out life
We’d dig in dirt in child-like abandon
Mash it between our fingers
Make mud pies
Pies served to makeshift dolls

It was magic to my little girl mind

But night rain?
Oh, that was a whole different vibe.
When the drops hit zinc—
rat-a-tat lullaby rising just above silence
Better than any pill
It lulled you into peace
A deep sleep of sweetest dreams

I miss that—
Those simple days when rain was enough.
Enough to make magic.
Enough to make rest.
Enough to make me believe.

Afterword: This piece grew out of a comment I shared in response to a reader on an earlier post, which also touched on the theme of rain. My comment was:

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