Poetry:
A powerful storm . . . will sweep through the Northwest
today with locally heavy rain, possibly excessive.
NOAA National Weather Service Website
Paint your walls the color of sunlight,
buy red rubber boots and a yellow slicker.
Do not retreat to San Diego or
San Miguel or back to bed.
When rain softens the windows and
wind sets the pines to their wild dance,
in the dark house, unpack winter lights.
string tiny bulbs across the sill, hang
a paper star to glow gold and green.
Tomorrow, you will see
the rhododendron has set fat buds for spring,
a pot of geraniums’ last flower defies the dark,
next door neighbors are building a new deck,
convinced that summer will come again.
At the ocean’s edge, rain and sun and rain again,
a multitude of seasons in a day—rehearsal of a
greater cycle and in the dark a promise.
When it seems rain and wind are everything,
the hellebore by the garden shed blooms
luminous as last night’s moon.
Student of the English language, admirer of small things, Marcia Silver lives in Manzanita with a number of companionable house plants.
