The weight of the water makes the branches hang low.
The rivers swelling mass continues to grow.
Taking the land as it roars.
Through the country side, it cuts like a saw.
Open ups old wounds and downs old trees.
Water is full of force but of form is free.
Spreads out across the plains, like parting fingers.
Blanketing the fields, its silty murkiness will linger.
Nature reminds us how small we are.
Egos will shrink as the water spreads so far.
The Sound of Rain
Water Particles break up on the window pane.
The sound on the tin roof deafening again.
Just like TV static but unable to turn it off.
Pounding the roof, this house a sound trough.
A slight break, then it eases away.
A mellow background sound, relaxation noise on replay.
Peace now flowing back into my mind.
Blissful, happy sleep and time to unwind.
© Deon Heemskerk 26-11-11