Summer Rain

I had written this a couple or three years ago. Going through my archives I came across this, and decided to let you read it. May be you have already read it…. but that’s okay, right? Read it again why don’t you.

It has been raining in Quincy for so many days. The weather reminds me of the days in 1993 when the levy was breached and the town was flooded. This time, the rains come in spurts, heavy deluge that makes you stop and take a look at the world outside; and at other times, it is soft continuous pitter patter and the heart sings to the tune of these drops falling on the broad leaves of the trees, mixed with the rumble of soft thunder.

I shut the engine of my car on the way home,
roll down the windows a little and listen to the rhythm
and music of the rain on the roof of the car,
while my heart sang with the rain.

I close my eyes, and see me seventy years earlier
running out of the house, bare feet, hair flying
around my face, my arms stretched
sticking my tongue out, so I could taste rain;

The drops of rain roll down along the windows
and the intense desire takes over— I want
to touch this rain; I want the hair to get drenched again.

I open the door and get out; the rain drops bathe my face;
they take my breath away.
I stand there, and realize that there are tears in my eyes.
I pretend to wipe the wind-shield, and see a squad car pull up behind

An officer gets out of his patrol car, all dressed up in rain gear,
“Is there a problem doctor? Do you need a ride home?”
I look at his rain clothes, and say, “No thank you! I had to get out of the car,

just so I could once again feel the rain, like I did when I was at home

Seven decades ago!!”©



About Zakiah

I write poetry and some fiction, have a book that was published in 2012. . . Stray Thoughts/Winged Words. I have four grandchildren, ages 16 and half to almost 16 months. I love the ocean, and grew up along the Indian Ocean in South India. I am a retired physician. Don't know much else to say. Thanks for reading. That has been my profile for so many years. My daughter Saadia a great poet and story teller, has two sons; the oldest grandson is now 21 years old, doing architectural engineering at Missouri S&T in Rolla MO. His younger brother is almost 16 and taking driving lessons seriously and is in High School. The other two grandsons, children of my son Sayeed, are 9 and 5. I have recently published another book titled Gulistan, A home of Flowers. It has stories and memories of my childhood and of a distant land which I still consider as my HOME., even though I have lived here in the US for more than fifty years. Hope to see you on my blog.
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12 Responses to Summer Rain

  1. murisopsis says:

    I still enjoy glimpses of your life in India!

  2. mrswrangler says:

    Hope you dont flood this year. We are in the land of the mud. Its thick and deep caused by the snow melt

  3. Zakiah says:

    THANK YOU. Love you.

  4. OH! What wonderful memories!
    Keep feeling the rain! It is so life-giving, energizing, beautiful, refreshing! Just like your poem Summer Rain! 🙂
    HUGS!!! 🙂

  5. I share the feelings you express so well, Zakiah. . This recalls to me a xanga post where I described the drops on the glass of the window shining with the light of my office while I typed the entry.
    Greet memory.
    Love ❤

  6. That was lovely. You certainly caught the mood and emotions very well. We had some rain on the weekend but I didn’t have any memories that came flooding back.

  7. slmret says:

    What beautiful memories! I, too, had memories of the creeks running and the boulders bouncing in their haste to find lower spots in the creeks! It has been quite a winter here and in Santa Barbara!

  8. r_hsw says:

    yes, i have read this before, yet it still manages to steal my heart. reading this again, i feel soothed. thank you.

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