A fierce gale is blowing
         rain pounding on the glass
pray that the wind
         does not disrupt the imagination
does not disturb my words

Is the rain any more real
         than my words ?
By the power of words
         I can abstract the rain
turn it into fiction
         or a cinematographic device
a private detective
         out on a case
lurking in a doorway
         as rain falls
tailing a suspect
         waiting perhaps
for one false move
         but the rain
the rain is a character
         a mood-changer
long shot
         along the empty boulevard
the dull glow of a streetlight
         reflected in the wet tarmac
what is happening
         is precisely nothing

         but a torrent of words
rains I have known
         over the seas and faraway
Poetry is all
         that includes the weather

John Lyons

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