The birds are quiet in the rain
Modern Sonnet
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Over the weekend it rained, which is always startling in Los Angeles because it’s so rare. I notice immediately how the sound of the rain and the grey shade of the sky shifts my perspective from outward to inward. Things get quieter outside, then things get quieter inside my own mind. They say it’s good for writing and solitary kinds of work, and for me this is definitely true. It helps me focus, and that has not been easy for me these past few months. So I’m feeling even more grateful for it than usual.
Art is not a material luxury but a psychological necessity. It’s one of our earliest impulses–all children make art of some kind and think no more of it than breathing. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, make some art. If you’re flooded with emotion, make art. If you’re numb, even, make some art. Art is simultaneously a release and a grounding. It gets you moving and also gets you to settle down.
One of my artistic practices is poetry, and this modern sonnet is about last Saturday’s morning rain. I’m calling it modern in style because it’s written in iambic tetrameter rather than pentameter. ;)
Imagery this week by dancer-turned-photographer-turned-engineer Isaac Oboka, reminding us that beauty is everywhere.
The birds are quiet in the rain
The birds are quiet in the rain,
shielded by the dripping leaves.
Underground, the trees receive,
drinking slowly, root to grain.
Rain calls everything to rest,
the sky a softer shade of night.
A man sleeps in the grayish light
with dreams of flying in his chest.
Foretelling rendezvous with heat,
rainfall soaks the brittle weeds.
The earth takes only what she needs
while cars pass blindly in the street.
A crow calls out as light breaks through
the cloud through which its message flew.
