Outside the world is melting and pooling and rippling.
I see it through a spotted wire screen
on the other side of the glass in a window-frame.
The outer walls are streaming and running cold between the cracks,
fissures in brick and mortar to form rushing rivulets in grass
and run quietly to secret-silent places downhill.
A thousand million E.E. Cummings hands
are drumming in small splashes somewhere up above my head.
Companions meet eyes against the rain as enemies' glances are washed away
by warm and trickling feelings of closeness.
Voices are softened to deeply reverberating music,
out of the ears and into the heart.
Quiet, warm communion of hands in the rain.
Hooray for making something cliche (rain) totally original and interesting. :)
ReplyDeleteI really like the feel of this poem. The contrast of the world that is being distorted outside, but is growing in warmth and intimacy inside.
The descriptions of the way that the rain effects what's going on around you "Outside the world is melting and pooling and rippling." "A thousand million E.E. Cummings hands are drumming" "Voices are softened" etc. are really effective in not only showing you what it's like to be inside watching and listening to the rain, but also making you realize that you've been there and felt that very same thing yourself.
It's a beautiful analysis of a simple, ordinary scene of life that not only conveys the physical aspects of rain and its effects, but also the emotional. "out of the ears and into the heart" "Quiet, warm communion of hands in the rain"
The last line sounds to me like the quiet cold of the rain draws those inside closer together, as if they appreciate the warmth and community of each other more now that none is to be found outside.