Symphony

Awake, I track the rhythms of the rain.
It moves, pulsates, across the anxious canvas.
My heart lifts as it fades away but then
it rebuilds, a crescendo in the blackness.
The wind joins in. Its harmony enhances
the theme that rain has introduced. They play
together, old companions in these dances,
yet each night there is something new to say.
Now other voices join them in their sonic
experiments. A bark. A siren’s call.
A distant crash. A gunshot? This symphonic
composition holds me captive in its thrall
until, at last, night’s symphony gives way
to fragile, fractured sleep, and quiet day.

© Rich Clarkson, August 2024