Soft Rains Poem by john o'connell

soft rains
falling
onto the quiet
unobstrusive
mornings
as seas lap
gently
against
the winter-weary
shores
of weather-beaten
hearts
and souls;
buds
sprouting
and shooting
their green-rich
herds
towards
an inebriated
sun
upwards
and outwards
in the delicate
art
of crowning
the bare bones
of skeletal
trees;
wet grasses
slowly
changing hue
on desolate pastures
of brown
rot and decay.

wood and soil,
flesh and blood
animated with an
optimism
going insane
with newborn
joy.