It’s a delicate responsibility, setting myself up as an envoy to the various rain gods. Easier, say, than being a peace negotiator in the Middle East, but almost as tricky.   I peek at this morning’s headline: Bay Area’s first ‘real’ rain of season expected Wednesday. Today is Wednesday, and I’m trying to dampen my hopes. I remember how last year these promising paisley swirls on the Pacific supposedly heading our way bearing gushers fizzled, drizzled.

It’s a touchy thing to urge gods to focus. You don’t want to appear from above like just another clamoring earthling unsuited to the deserts of the real world. You have to look somewhat hopeful, optimistic.  You want to look your best when you talk to gods, not like the despairing multitudes petitioning for an end to insane wars.

Let it come down: these thicknesses of air                                                                       have long enough walled love away from love;                                                      stillness has hardened until words despair                                                                           of their high leaps and kisses shut themselves                                                                back into wishing.      

from “A Prayer for Rain” by Lisel Mueller



2 responses to “THICKNESSES OF AIR

  1. Elizabeth said she had to move inside because her phone was getting wet when she called today. So maybe your relationship with the rain gods worked just a little.

    Joanne Gillis

  2. I awoke in the middle of the night to a disorienting, familiar/unfamiliar sound. Could it be? I hold responsible your ongoing communion with the rain gods.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s