Rain-Raid Reverie

While thinking about topics for today’s Poem, we in Ireland had just gone through our 58th day of rain. This was on a constant basis. This news about our experience with rain this year, became my Topic for a Poem. Thus began my journey to creating a poem for today. Many times we as poets compose poetry on weather on a particular day in time. Yet few work on such constant rain as a basis for a poem. When considering this, I took it as a challenge. I want the poem to fit into a group of Poems. I would term these as “Seasonal Meditation.” Several Poems I composed in the past couple of years have been under that group.

Introduction

There are seasons that press upon us, heavy with storm and shadow. There are days when the earth feels sodden beneath our feet. The sky weeps without pause. In those moments, the world seems still, yet beneath the surface, life persists, quiet, patient, and unseen.

This poem was born from nearly sixty days of rain. It moves through that weight and that waiting. It moves toward the soft insistence of renewal. It traces the journey from relentless storms to hidden growth. Finally, it portrays the promise of light that breaks through. This light is gentle and luminous, like morning spilling over summer fields.

Read it slowly. Let the rhythm of endurance wash over you. Feel the hush of anticipation and the eventual rising of warmth and hope. It’s as though you, too, are emerging from the long rain. You are ready to feel the sun once more.

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This is the best possible image for this Poem. Which works for this Poem and for this topic. All thanks go to AI that provides an image that works for this task. Thus credit goes to AI for the image.

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Rain-Raid Reverie





Dangling, dancing in the driven wind,
A loosened limb laments its loss within.
When storm-winds stamp their storied wrath about,
And rain rides in with reckless, restless doubt.




Soft soil sighs beneath the soaking rain,
Slow steps confess their stress and dragging chain.
Those trickling trials tighten into snare,
And lay the wear of guarded hearts laid bare.



So sixty sullen, silver-sifting days
Have veiled the fields in whispering, wept greys.
The sun sank low, as though it slipped from sight,
While waiting Spring stood hushed beyond our sight.




Beneath stark boughs in bitter-breathing dark,
Sleeps sacred sap in root and hidden heart.
Though weeks must wane before warm winds arise,
A pulsing promise patiently complies.




A hidden hand in hush and hollow hue
Holds fast the fragile, fashions life anew.
Through grieving grey where bowed horizons bend,
Glows gilded grace that gathers without end.




For brighter beams break softly, slow and sure,
A quiet riot frost cannot endure.
And patient roots in earthen deep unseen
Prepare their prayer beneath the barren green.



So let the rain reign down its reckoning dust,
And bend each burdened branch again to trust.
For after ache and iron-weighted skies,
Rise radiant mornings, merciful and wise.




Like first light laid on long-awaiting fields,
Where golden warmth its woven wonder yields.
There hope, once hushed beneath the winter seam,
Wakes, breaks, and blooms within the morning’s gleam.







Copyright © 2026 Pat Fitzgerald 
All Rights Reserved 

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Thank you for coming with me on my little journey, that is composing or writing poetry. Life is a journey we all walk on. My journey in creating poetry is a journey of its own. Which I still learn much on as I write.

At times I experiment on techniques or ways to improve my poetry. Getting feedback is always most welcome for efforts like these.

When I write poetry, some readers will be offended with something within the poetry. I do not write to offend, But such are written for reasons I outline in the posts. Often I miss typos and mistakes when publishing each poem. I correct the moment I discover such mistakes.

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