Arizona Rain

Rocking back and forth on the white wicker chair
Each sting of the glassy pearls pricking the sheltering porch rail
Humorously magnified by the motionless of the wind
Restless, weariness, soaking in the rain
Displacement of the errie calm
Ba-rum-pum-pum only by the drumming of my fingers
Tapping the white wicker chair
So only the rain; the welcomed pitter-patter of the rain
The ching-a-ling-ling of the wind chimes
And my drumming echo beyond trench coat clouds
A broken resonance as the steel droplets cut through the wind
Leafy plumes reach out, stretched and trembling from so many dry days
So many seasons glanced over
Swishhhhhhhhh.....
A last enamored wash of rain
Until nothing but slowly sleeping morsels of dust
Leftover droplets disguised as glass
The thankful, satiated flora
And my discordant tapping
Remain.