42 Rain poems

The bottoms of my shoes are clean From walking in the rain

Minutes before the rain begins I always waken, listening to the world hold its breath, as if a phone had rung once in a far room or a door had creaked in the darkness. Perhaps the genes of some forebear startle in me, some tribal warrior keeping watch on a crag beside a loch, miserable in the cold, though I think it is a woman's waiting I have come to know, a Loyalist hiding in the woods, muffling the coughing of her child against her linen skirts, her dark head bent over his, her fear spent somewhere else in time, leaving only this waiting, and I hope she escaped with her child, and I suppose she did. If not, I wouldn't be lying here awake, alive, listening for the rain to begin so that she can run, the sound of her footsteps lost, the sight of them blotted away on the path.

For this you may see no need, You may think my aim Dead set on something Devoid of conceivable value: An Anthology of  Rain, A collection of voices Telling someone somewhere What it means to follow a drop Traveling to its final place of rest. But do consider this request If you have pressed your nose Of any shape against a window, Odor of metal faint, persistent, While a storm cast its cloak Over the shoulder of every cloud In sight. You are free to say Whatever crosses your mind When you look at the face of time In the passing of one drop Gathering speed, one drop Chasing another, racing to reach A fork in the path, lingering Before making a detour to join Another, fattening on the way Until entering a rivulet Running to the sill. So please accept this invitation: You are welcome to submit, There is no limit to its limit, Even the instructions are a breeze As long as you include Nothing about yourself Except your name. Your address Remains unnecessary, for the rain Will find you — if you receive it It receives you (whether or not You contribute, a volume Is sent). And when you lift The collection you may hear, By opening anywhere, a drop And its story reappear As air turns to water, water to air.

Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk. The rain makes running pools in the gutter. The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night— And I love the rain.

Summer rain on a hot afternoon everything steams the smell of it the way it makes the air summer rain is the earth exhaling

In a storm at sea there is nothing to do but wait and keep the bow pointed into the waves that's all you can do point toward the thing and wait for it to pass

The rain at night sounds like company i don't mind being alone when it rains the sound fills the room i think that's okay

I was in mumbai for the monsoon once the whole city stopped then the rain started then the city started again in rain

After the rain everything is louder the birds came back the green got greener the world does a reset and keeps going

Rain on a tent is the best sound for sleeping i don't need a reason i don't need a study i know what i know