The return of the rain
Brings me to life again.
The touch of this holy water
Upon my skin
Washes me clean
Lets me begin once more.
The passion of the raindrops
Freefalling to the ground
Is the baptism of hope I need
So that I feel born again.
It resurrects a faith
That had all but died.
I feel rain, I feel alive.
© 2018 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.
Made of sticks and stones 
I enjoyed the sounds and repetition in this, not to mention the timeliness – it’s been parched where I am, and today’s rain has revived both me, and the land around me. You capture that feeling well in this poem.
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Thank you, yes it has been parched here as well. So much so that when I was out driving in a rainstorm and then it stopped the fields that I was passing were steaming as the water immediately started to evaporate. It made a very otherworldly scene but life affirming and beautiful.
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Reblogged this on Made of sticks and stones and commented:
For the 26 November here’s a poem of rebirth …
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