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Message: <blockquote data-quote="RangerWickett" data-source="post: 958193" data-attributes="member: 63">DrizzleA rumble, a low crackle, a thrum.For the clouds here are children, mewling,Like strangers speaking a strange tongue,Their rainfall an empty spray.But a stray wind briefly carries familiar galesFrom a hurricane meant for the Gulf.Migrated far, they play outside and above my window,Recalling the pleasant storms of our homeland.Back on the coastal plains of floodland Texas,Open to sky and an ocean of endless horizon,I’d smile in my bed, blinds open, staringUpward into the clapping cloak of the storm.My eyes would close to the rain falling on glass.From the first light of memory, of my upgazing eyeStaring across the city’s unlit towers,I recall this water-shrouded vision asA childhood melody, a lullaby eager and swiftTo pass my lips in moments of solitude.My cousins overhead sing of more memories:A faint whirlwind in the sunset, sendingDown onto the fields and streets and forests,A cascade;Walking home from school, singing To no audience;Dancing hip-deep in sea brine, Having to leave because of others Not reckless enough to stand in the storm.At night, I murmur to my white-haired sisterIn a shared conversation, of howShe will stay up late and dazzle at the lightning,But as strokes of greeting lambence gleamSummoning flashes of remembrance,I lie back and feel the rhythm through the earth,Through my skin, and I tell herHow I always preferred thunder.Out of this foreign land, of sound-proof hills,And rain-soaked peachtrees,With tide-like farewells, the visiting stormcloudsRoar sonorously to me in my exile,As their airy undertow carries them back,Their blessings carried off by the gulf wind.Far from Texas plains, I listen to the song I will writeOf this new home,But when the rains greet me, swing by,Thunder,And travel on to fade to echoes,I remember my homeland, in stormsong,In the crash of lightning,In the pleasant drizzle of reminiscence.</blockquote>

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