the sound of rain
on the sea
foghorn lights up
tides curve the
lighthouse path

rain swings over earth
going into the soil
nourishing, awakening
to push touch roots to blossom
taking and making into creation

a silver fountain of
vanilla constellations
waltz out of sight

I dream in a rainy sky.

On The Cutting Board

Said the cutting board to the knife 
When you do your chop chop
All the veggies go drop drop
Cut up to be curried
In no way hurried
Steamed, stir fried
Pickled or dried
All nutrients supplied
On farmers relied
When the sky opened up cried
The soil that crumbled n died
lived and freshened and happily sighed

When the veggies went under the knife
to be skinned and chopped
they became a gourmet delight
making digestion alright.