splash

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drip
drop
plopping
april rain
no stopping cloud spurt
earth reaching flower teaching sop

©A. D. Joyce, 2017

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the pisces solar eclipse

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an odd new jersey february
the waning days of the month
as warm as spring
tonight a torrential rain
heralded by thunder and lighting
and a howling wind

what does this mean
other than what it is
first this strange weather
then the pisces solar eclipse tomorrow
the end of a long cycle
the death of what no longer serves us
and a new beginning
new possibilities
new choices

or is this
a simple storm
now losing steam
thunder fading
into the distance
deluge slowing
to a single
drop

©A. D. Joyce, 2017

Agua de Beber Al Jarreau

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The earth has lost another musical great, Al Jarreau. To me, he made music in its purest form, creating the most beautiful and interesting sounds using his body as an instrument, limited only by his vast imagination. For me, he is a forerunner to such artists as Bobby McFerrin, (in my opinion, another genius and innovator in a similar space) and the brilliant Pentatonix. Music literally lived within him and his music is now within me. For that I’m grateful. Rest in peace, Al Jarreau.

your love is rain
my heart a flower

©A. D. Joyce, 2017

Waters of March

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rain today, made me think of this song, beautiful lyrics

the waters of march (águas de março; excerpt)

a stick, a stone, it’s the end of the road
it’s the rest of a stump, it’s a little alone
it’s a sliver of glass, it is life, it’s the sun
it is night, it is death, it’s a trap, it’s a gun

the oak when it blooms, a fox in the brush
the knot in the wood, the song of a thrush
the will of the wind, a cliff, a fall
a scratch, a lump, it is nothing at all

it’s the wind blowing free, it’s the end of the slope
it’s a beam, it’s a void, it’s a hunch, it’s a hope
and the river bank talks of the waters of march
it’s the end of the strain, it’s the joy in your heart ….

©A. D. Joyce, 2016

God on the Freeway

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It was only a Saturday,
and from my vantage
on the freeway,
breaks in the continuum approached
where the darkest clouds
would soon give way to brilliant sunlight.
But first, there was
an arbitrary line crossed
where sprinkling rain gave way
to blinding torrent,
deep and uncontrolled.
Time stretched out
in the shade of darkness,
all the cars in slow motion,
as God, She called to us
from the other side of the deluge,
Her sexy sky dressed
in gold and white taffeta
billowing bright.
And once there, dry and safe,
I continued to drive toward
that door of heaven.

©A. D. Joyce, 2014