Listening Poem by Smoky Hoss

listening alone
to nature groan,
heavy the rain does fall
drip by drip inside my wall,
this old house leaks
this old house speaks


thoughts pour from the sky
as if learning how to fly,
showers come down in crazy sheets
I lie and listen
to the strange things they bespeak


lightning, thunder
brings wild wonder

the flood of mystery
drowns history;
things up, things down
things nearly lost...things nearly found

snakes slither
owls fly
people work, people die,
together we ever move along
like a river wide, deep and long

some see the light
some fear the dark,
through it all
we with God play our part

across the land
the four-winds will blow,
the great waters
will continue to flow...

...(far off, somewhere, the rain will end,
for in the final analysis, Love shall win.)

but here and now
the roof still leaks,
the floor still creaks;
at times the house does cry
and so do I;
tonight I and the house are one
and thus shall remain
until the return of the sun

like a stray dog
looking for a bone
like a drifter
looking for a home,
hope for what yet is to be found
is what keeps our feet on hallowed, dry ground.