Rainy Day Poem Poem by bob barci

On the front porch, in the rain,
is where I am.
Not doin’ much either.
Just sittin’.
Lookin’ ‘round.
Watchin’ it rain.
Listenin’ to the thunder.
Catchin’ the lightening bolts.
I sort of like it.
The heavy rain.
The loud thunder.
I watch it all
with wide eyed amazement.
Almost feel like a frightened child
who has to watch.
Oh, too bad.
It’s letting up.
Stopping.
Stopping.
Stopped.
Now, my nostrils pick up
the fresh, just rain washed
smell in the air.
And yes, the sun is trying to come out,
giving everything a soft, luminescent glow.
I must go.
Walk.
Be a part of that glow.
And should the rains start again,
as I walk,
my rain washed spirit,
is lifted, and, reborn.