It’s autumn, though mid-August, so we sigh.
Too soon, we see it has begun, the rain.
We’ll change our skins to wooly socks, to slickers,
and to rubber boots. That’s how we dress for rain.
The world is silent now, all the warblers fled.
They seek another space, a new terrain.
A friend, a foe, it’s blessing and a curse. Brings
mountains down on those we love, the rain.
The slugs emerge to soak their skins, to smooth
their slime. They gnaw the peas and celebrate the rain.
The salmon arc in rainbow hues. Above,
refracted sundrops shimmy in the rain.
The world is groaning now with too much heat
and, unlike us, they pray, what else? More rain.
That all the grime would wash away — the anger,
sadness, fear of dark. Renew us, Rain.
Rain Walker, defy the whiners and the sky.
Pull up your hood, go waltzing with the rain.
—
Bonnie Demerjian writes from Southeast Alaska’s Tongass National Forest where she migrated to teach a year or two. Before she knew it, she had become a forever Alaskan. Her poems have been published in print and online publications including Alaska Women Speak, Tidal Echoes, Blue Heron Review, Pure Slush and the Unmooring. She has also written four non-fiction books on Southeast Alaska’s history and nature.
