FIRE, and TORRENTIAL RAIN
It’s midnight, I’m alone
My house is suddenly sheathed
In a thick tent of rain
These sheaves of throbbing water
This quenching cold
This dark poured into dark
Are the pure opposite
Of fire, and yet this night
Is whispering and singing like a fire.
Fire, most beautiful of flowers,
Whose only perfume is brightness,
You have no season, and you bloom
On the highest of high altars
And under the vagrant’s pot.
Through centuries on centuries
Like Christ you are everywhere,
To kindle the half cigarettes
Which the homeless find in the gutters,
And the tall paschal candle.
-Anne Porter
Gladsome Lights 
Beautiful words! Starved as we are of rain at the moment, I particularly enjoy the words
“My house is suddenly sheathed
In a thick tent of rain”!
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I’ve been saving this poem for a week like we are finally having now, with much wetness!
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You need the rain as much as we do!
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It’s definitely a poem for the week we have had here!
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We’ve had 19 days of rain so far this month so we don’t need any more. The very descriptive words of the poem make me feel even chillier than I was feeling before.
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elegant contrasts!
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