No 3  It rained today.


Not normal rain,
not pitter-pattering gently against the window,
running down in streaks.
No.
This was a hard rain,
a freezing rain,
hurling against the glass door
with the force of a cold west wind
travelling over the prairies.
A thousand miles it has swirled
and now carrying the ice rain
it batters my door.

For a moment it becomes
normal rain.
Rain I remember from sixty years ago
comfortingly padding the windows
running down in runnels
washing the glass.

Here it helps wash the snow clean

A little melt in the winter gloom
lifts the spirits.
A little dirty wet brown grass
under the feet reminds us
Spring will come.