| Rain
I can hear you
making small holes
in the silence
rain
If I were deaf
the pores of my skin
would open to you
and shut
And I
should know you
by the lick of you
if I were blind
the something
special smell of you
when the sun cakes
the ground
the steady
drum-roll sound
you make
when the wind drops
But if I
should not hear
smell
feel
or see you
you would still
define me
disperse me
wash over me
rain
Hone Tuwhare 1922-2008
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What a gorgeous poem that was, Joan. Rain has never sounded so beautiful. Thank you for introducing me to someone I've never read before.
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