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Poetry of Issue #7        Page 47

                Rain Poems 2.

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It is raining this morning
and the wind is forcing
the leaves to fall

the green ones’ wrestle
to stay on branches
the yellow ones’ surrender
without a fight

In the house
the old child glides his kite
while three sisters
holding hands and manes

think of spirals
half-moons
and love

A sacred heart is burning
flanked by and arch
with open legs

cuddled by red and orange leaves
grass, bubbles
and clouds

The windows capture the raindrops
to nourish Green Tara, Ganesha,
and the goddess of one breast

Leaning beside the steps
a mother and her son
embrace a fish for dinner

while the old lady waits for the bus
and the red Buddha rest with happiness
by the gateway, where the elephants hang.

Next door, the pianist
plays melancholic tunes
and the gust soften…
there is an intermission to sob

A candle has been lit
the smell of incense
conquers the mood

and the twigs dance with ease
amid the drizzle and the wind

It is still raining this morning
the foliage splattered over my walls
and now we are all here

Deities, leaves, hearts, moons,
waters, fires and poems.

  Sandra A. García-Betancourt