Poetry Sunday: Summer Rain by Amy Lowell

When I was a young child, we lived in a house with a tin roof so I understand what Amy Lowell is referring to in her poem. Many nights I was lulled to sleep by the hypnotic sound of rain hitting that roof.

The house that I live in now does not have a tin roof, but at least we did finally have a bit of summer rain falling on it Saturday, courtesy of Hurricane Hanna that was churning in the Gulf south of us. It was rain that we badly needed. We could use more, but I'm grateful for the "cool, silver rain" that did fall. 

Summer Rain

by Amy Lowell

All night our room was outer-walled with rain.
Drops fell and flattened on the tin roof,
And rang like little disks of metal.
Ping!—Ping!—and there was not a pin-point of silence between
    them.
The rain rattled and clashed,
And the slats of the shutters danced and glittered.
But to me the darkness was red-gold and crocus-colored
With your brightness,
And the words you whispered to me
Sprang up and flamed—orange torches against the rain.
Torches against the wall of cool, silver rain!

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