NATURE Poem: Cloudbursts, by Phoebe Lingold

If I was one of those ancient poets with something profound to say, I would’ve written about the rain. By now, all of the good stuff has been taken- the smell that modern science has given a technical and unromantic name, the way the grass gets greener after a shower, the relief of the cool drops on your skin in the summer when the day’s already scorched you half crisp, the powerful thunder and lightning that sometimes flash murals of epic momentary beauty, the sticky feeling of heavy air when a storm is near that we now call humidity. Humidity isn’t a beautiful word, and all the beautiful parts of rain already have poems, so I guess I’ll just say this. I love the rain.

Author: poetryfest

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