The Rain In Her Prismed Sonnets (Final Version) Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

the rain in her prismed sonnets speaks to me

though you'd hardly believe it

gushing down drain pipes

and from the eaves

and from the summer leaves

so much so that I wonder why their

green watercolour does not drip off

and stain the pavements,

rippling the harps of ponds and hidden lakes.

wave after wave the sibilant rains recall

the feeling of comfort when I was small

or home from school

having come to term with all terms

reprieved from homework.

the air is shining as the rains recede

and I feel shining within

even now, as much as then

and christened.

mary angela douglas 1 august 2022; 11 march 2023