I was leafing through an old notebook a few nights ago and found a snippet of poetry I wrote in a workshop in 1995. This seemed like a good time to polish it up and see if it will shine.
So I edited it, moving lines and stanzas a little, correcting a few lost phrases, changing the breaks, and adding the title.
It is in part a celebration of a moment, and in part a wish to turn back time.
The Rain Again
My dog has been out
in the rain again,
and comes in bringing
small gifts of mud
between her toes and water
from her back to her chest
and I am here another night
to see this, her smile.
in the rain again,
and comes in bringing
small gifts of mud
between her toes and water
from her back to her chest
and I am here another night
to see this, her smile.
What if the whole storm
was shifted into reverse?
The rain rising up into the clouds,
swelling, growing heavier
and turning hard out to sea.
was shifted into reverse?
The rain rising up into the clouds,
swelling, growing heavier
and turning hard out to sea.
I dry her with a towel,
smelling the rain in her coat.
I am here, she is tugging
on the towel,playing,
and I would not
sell this for anything.
smelling the rain in her coat.
I am here, she is tugging
on the towel,playing,
and I would not
sell this for anything.
The Rain Again by J. Kyle Kimberlin is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
Metaphor 
I remember Tasha well, my friend. Your readings have preserved her for us in many memories. Ms. Corsua is also an excellent poet. This is how these things work.We cast a pebble of memory against the stars and cherish the unexpected ripples . . .
Thank you all for your comments on the poem. I'm glad I found it and gave it a little time. Tasha was one of the most amazing of God's gifts in my life.
As a dog lover, I could not help but melt (pardon the word, but it is the most approximate) at the line "bringing small gifts of mud." I have decades' worth of memories of that (of muddy paw-marks on my clothes, too) which I hope I never forget. Tasha is so beautiful.I came here via Joseph's poetry blog. Cheers.
A sweet moment, this. The pricelessness of memory.Every storm reverses in time.As poets, we absolutely know this.Thanks for posting this as your sense of timing prevails yet again to remind us that weather passes and returns; passes and returns.
i like that, it made me hug my pups. :)hi Tasha!