Rain

 

This Friday’s poem is Rain by Hone Tuwhare, chosen because we’ve had some but need some more.

 

It’s from An Anthology of Twentieth Century New Zealand Poetry, published by Oxford, University Press, 1976.

 

       Rain

 

I can hear you making

small holes in the silence

rain

 

If I were deaf

the pores of my skin

would open to you

and shut

 

And I should know you

by the lick of you

if I were blind:

 

the steady drum-roll

sound you make

when the wind drops

 

the something

special smell of you

when the sun cakes

the ground

 

But if I should not

hear

smell of feel or see you

 

you would still

define me

disperse me

wash over me

rain

 

– Hone Tuwhare –  

One Response to Rain

  1. pbmcbeth says:

    An excellent choice… thank you… it’s been a while since I’ve indulged in Tuwhare…

    Like

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