December Rain

The rain has already begun - I
wish you could be here for a day,
you would like it, I think.

A quiet fire pops
on the hearth, a mix
of old and new music floats
softly from the Sherwood,
and the room - lit by the flame
of fire, a single soft bulb
in the corner, and the glow
from monitors.

Outside, the world is sheathed
in a thin fog, our friend the lone frog
returned from wherever it was
he hid this past week of freeze,
even the Great Heron
was to be heard croaking
a grumpy farewell to the day.

Through it all the quiet hiss
of rain; not falling, sliding
through the trees until
it dances off the ferns
tapping the ground.

Standing on my cool cement step
smoking a night-time thought,
the trees a deepening shade
of black as far back
as the eye goes; broken
by shards of light
streaming from a neighbor's
gives form to shapeless fog.

If I listen close
I can hear you
calling my name
in the rain.

I feel you -
in the rain.

_{(Drafted For The One on 12-18-2009)}