August Rain
We let the grass grow long here
it takes the rain infinitely gentle
each blade leads a drop to earth
and springs back catching my eyes
here there everywhere
in an energy of dance
then the beat of rain like a drum
the sound hollow bird-song-silent
Sensation gives way to feeling
the river is an octave lower
vision joins in the grasses dance
returns a physical embrace
the mind rinsed out listens
consciousness aware as it rests
expands in a space absent of care
Hearing the soft gurgle
in the limestone grikes
as the now heavy rain seeps
between the clints of rock
enters Gaia’s interior spaces
home of beetle spider and bat
the carbon store of ancient bone
ancestor and bear archetype and ally
I am drawn into this strange affinity
earth’s deep well of many waters
where the cosmos has left a remnant of stars
a crossing of a threshold
rock like synapses
a concrescence of which we are wrought
In the mighty roar of waters
the river turns tumultuous white
through the bridges of my imagination
it fills the sea of my becoming
the sea of whale and dolphin thought
The Hug of Gaia 
Beautiful.
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Thankyou Billy.
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Dear Tony,
Now that the summer is ending and the air at night is chill, I am reminded of the many things I have put aside for too long in favor of the multitude of plans for the future I have been forced to make because of John’s death–among them, leaving this house and its many reminders of the life we shared together in favor of a senior living situation which will ultimately offer me the best chance of continuing care. It has taken me this long to realize that I cannot sustain the maintenance of this large house, which continues to remind me of its own age and continued need for maintenance–this by way of apologizing for not commenting on “About the Rain and Gaia” sooner.
I very much enjoyed this poem, which so beautifully conveys the symbiotic relationship between Gaia and humanity through the delicacy and aptness of its imagery. Your wording is so carefully chosen to convey the ways in which water unites us with Gaia, indeed pervading our entire being as well as making that vital imaginative connection. And I particularly love the metaphor of dance that informs the poem throughout. Of course It cannot but help reminding me of Yeats: “How can we know the dancer from the dance?” His line suggests a close connection as well, of course–that of the artist and his creation. And because of the meditative vision of your poem, perhaps it is not particularly inapt.
So many of your images struck me as precise and well wrought: “the mind rinsed out listens.” Yes, it does, to an inner or interior reality as opposed to the quotidian reality, or (triviality) of one’s daily routines. Perhaps only through meditation can one access an awareness of ” earth’s deep well of many waters” or hear “the beat of water like a drum.” This aural image is, of course, consonant with the metaphors of dance which pervade the poem.
I have only one minor cavil: The line “the river is an octave lower” though consonant with aural imagery is not clear to me. Do you mean this in terms of a “rushing” river as opposed to the gentleness of rain on leaf–or in terms of a river of consciousness? I don’t think the poem would lose strength by eliminating that line–or perhaps modifying it.
Thank you for sending this directly to me, Tony. I appreciate your doing so, as I often have problems with Word Press. The humidity here has finally lifted, and there’s hardly a cloud on the horizon. Time for an island walk!
Much love to you and Max,
Marcia
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Dear Marcia, lovely to hear from you. Yes leaving a house that means (has meant) so much is a a bereavement in itself. I will paste this to email and send with a copy of “My House” which is on the blog here somewhere and imagines the leaving of the house as a leaving of a lover. Thank you for such kind comments about the poem. Maybe “the river is an octave lower” has too many layers and becomes ambiguous: simply put, I was referring to a small actual river some metres away from the garden and how its tone alters as if fills with the result of heavy rain…from a high sparkling talkative kind of “rinsing the ear” sound to a low fierce roar. But you understand all my feelings with this poem so well. It is my birthday this week and I shall read your comments aloud as an appreciation. Is that a bit egotistic? Well maybe, but it is a tribute to you and to help the uninitaiated to the wonder of Gaia.
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