Mountain Memory

--> 

Mountain rain wakes me, tapping on the roof

Like a child whispering

Like a memory whispering

Remember.

Soothing and delicious to the mind,

Rain is the bedside chocolate

Wind is the mother’s milk

Fog is the warm aroma

Of the whispering leaves

Who rustle tenderly

Behind my eyes.

Moistening away the worry,

They say remember:

The smell of bright green grass

Soft as hair,

Pale brown apples too,

Fallen and sweet with bees,

The sharp perfume of hunting dogs

Asleep in their pen,

Last night’s fire, warm

Burnt and smoldering still.

Mist rolls down and through

The house windows

Across my morning bed.

Like a blanket, it says

Sleep,

And the waking rain murmurs

Remember.

(Light rain in the mountains reminds me of my grandparents' home and yard where I visited often, over 40 years ago.)

copyright by the author