Tune of the Rain

I wake to the sound of a bird singing a tune of the rain
Flapping through the rain-soaked sky
A steady rain and grey sky doesn't wake all
But this particular bird,
He flits and flutters joyfully
Coming around again.
To the shelter of the limb, high above ground
Thick leaves hover above, offering what they can,
as if an umbrella was opened.
Rain splashes off and falls to puddles
on the ground.
Pools for a swim later.

I have only had time for poetry lately. Short dashes of words and phrases expressed from a momentary reflection. The ounces of creativity that overflow in a few minutes as I pay attention to the present moment. Days flow quickly like a rushing river, and I long for that which we all wish we had more of -- time. Thoughtful musings need time. But in these bursting moments of poems, I let the words flow out like the quick and intense cloudbursts we have had lately. The summer season of heat surrounds us with moisture every day, in the air, and then in the raindrops. I cannot help but write about it when my imagination had a few minutes to spare. I imagined these little birds who were singing so exuberantly, splashing around in all the puddles that are left behind by the storm.