Summer Rain

I.

The soft sound of a summer rain
      falling on the leaves 
            that surround my hearth
is the sound of a gentle breeze breathing, 
      the strings of a Canon 
            by Pachelbel, softly played.

II.

But the summer rain, that night, turned fierce, 
      a crescendo accompanied by thunder, 
            lightening charged, thundering the earth 
with the force of a night on a bald-top mountain, 
      dark and frenzied, winged demons let loose, 
            giving way in morning’s light to a new day, 
                  hot and humid, a rose sunshine 
                        in a blue sky rising, returning.