Posted by: highmountainmuse | May 22, 2009

The rain cries

Shades of greening in the spring

Shades of greening in the spring

The rain falls as heavy as tears

Washing the land with sorrows

Drowning out the simple silence


Forgiveness I am unable to find

Through the leaden misty clouds

That encircle the mountains and

Roll languid down the valleys

Instigate the streams flow to bursting


Sounds of distant geese and creeks

Replaced by incessant and senseless

Sounds of biting lies and barking ignorance


Is the beauty of the land enough

To overlook these crimes

Of a family so divided?


Or does it act as steel stakes

To hold us pinned down to the past

Never able to spread our wings

And see the land for the untainted

Beauty and life and wonder

That is all she knows to be.


  1. would that we would all only know to be such. i feel for you. family rifts cut deep. hugs…

  2. and that scene/photo is to die for . . .

  3. Ah, just words, just a poem for the sake of words, possibly no true depth and meaning there, written because I like the sound… Do you believe me, Ruth?
    I love the rain, it does heal, and in fact, it does wash away our sorrows. How resiliant we are.
    That photo was on a walk yesterday. I wish I could have captured all the beauty, all around the mountain yesterday. It was… ethereal.

  4. It sounds like you have a problem and it causes you pain . I know the feeling .Hopfully the rain will help us both by washing away some of our troubles .Look at the world around you and take soulace in what the rain does for the land and it will help you .I wish i could walk in your path and see what you see .I do but only in your pictures and writings
    Don Bentley

  5. Wish I could be there to give you a big hug…Willie would want to give you a big drooly hug, too, and Cody would wiggle wiggle! Hope that lifts your spirits.

    My friends Lisa and Gene will be there in a couple days. Can’t say I’m not a little envious!

  6. It would!

  7. gin… is this your stomach ache i have? its a knot. empath here. you are no more a woman whose words are “just” words than i am. you’re the pitchfork-wielding, bear-chasing lover of all things that nourish and birth wildness. besides, words are seeds. they go into soil. they grow up. they birth fields and nations.
    hang in there, my sister… more hugs to you…

  8. Ruth, Again, you got me thinking… about words… and life… I got an idea here thanks to you, let me brew on it a couple days and see what happens. I’ll let you know…

  9. please do…

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