The First Thing

The first thing I realized I was hearing 

when I woke up from the land of nowhere was

the brittle sounds of little frozen rods of

rain crashing into the sliding glass porch doors

relentlessly and cracking into tiny

shards of split piles in the bare bulb light of new dawn.

I don't know why this scene of tiny frozen

lakes all cracking in unison entered my

 

glowing brain like that but it made a perfectly clear and 

beautiful sense to me. I was back and

I had nothing else to focus on but this

song of melting wind chimes blowing all around me. I felt thankful.

Right now I've been watching it snow for hours and

I get that same feeling. Then I turned on the key to myself.

I'd been sleeping on the couch, but I knew

 

what was being said. You're not done yet. You've still

got the gift of listening to it rain. That snowy beat's

ancient music's being carried on inside of you. It carries the sense of the real 

you.  You must use this sound out loud. Pay it forward. Keep the

snow's language alive. Find a way. Speak like snow, as snow, for all snow.. And so, on behalf

of the rain and myself  may I request

the honor of your presence at this poem today.

 

 

Darryl Price                 Friday, January 25, 2013