The Sound of Rain

Ink slurps up a fountain pen

like water gushing down gutters

a dash to inscribe drops on ground.


A new born miner’s persistent speak

to an unknown beat which answers

back, a chorus of exuberant echoes.


This is the forgotten sound of tincan

incantations, of skate across slippery

slate, of harmonic rhythm’s return


Copyrighted by the author