Rain and Rain

Rainy days are often dreary and make one feel as if the world is a sad place; the very weather mirrors the tears of the unhappy. But other rainy days are merely reminders that it cannot always be sunny, that the earth must be watered somehow, and gives one an opportunity to sit inside and enjoy some things that are sometimes overlooked on sunny days.

Today seems like the latter kind of rainy day, at least to me. You may disagree (and rainy days are seen by different people in different ways, largely dependent upon season, mood, and the number of rainy days in succession). Small things are what make the difference. Here I sit in my office, lit only by the soft light of lamps, eating warm broccoli cheddar soup and sourdough bread. They are such a happy combination. The sourdough bread has a tang that is beautifully balanced by the creamy soup and the flavor of cooked broccoli. The only sounds are the steady tick-tock of my wall clock and the click of the keys on the keyboard, and I wish my lunch break was long enough to take a nap, lulled to sleep by the clock’s ticking and the mental image I have of the rain falling quietly (my office, alas, does not have a window, so all images of the outdoors are just that, images).

My lunch break is nearly at an end, and I will have to return to the world of spreadsheets, tallying receipts, and registration forms, but the few precious moments of relaxation in the middle of my day have been sweet.

And although I do not quite feel like this today (though I might tomorrow if the rain keeps coming), here is a poem about rain for your enjoyment. It’s been a couple weeks since I’ve read much poetry, and I miss it, which is why I’ve been putting poetry on here today I think. Without further ado, here are a few lines from Mr. Longfellow:

The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

Sonnet 116

-William Shakespeare

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! It is an ever-fixéd mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.
Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle’s compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ nor no man ever loved.

Where Do We Go From Here?

I look at you, and your loneliness is
Suffocating.
I look back, and my loneliness is like
Drowning.
So close, we sit on uncomfortable chairs
Our words bounce off
Unable to sink in –
Together but alone.
So easy to slide away
Lost in our depths;
When will we surface?
Bubbling and pushing past
We are so different, you and I–
Did I tell you?

I don’t really know how to swim.