Poetic Blooms weather

 

The Patter of the Rain

(a Ghazal)

 

Tap tapping on the roof, sings the patter of the rain

I sit on the porch and listen to the patter of the rain.

 

The cool air washes over me in sweet, peaceful waves.

The trees sway and glisten to the patter of the rain.

 

The fresh-washed scent of roses flits past my nose.

As they are softly christened to the patter of the rain.

 

I swing back and forth and my soul is full and content.

Absolutely nothing is remiss in the patter of the rain.

 

To the calming tune, I imagine all things pleasant.

And as a poet, I create this in the patter of the rain.