Throughout 2022 I collected poems in a folder named “For Grandchildren.” They were of the sort I thought Pippin’s or Soldier’s children might enjoy, and my plan was to either send them one by one in letters, or take a bunch with me to read in person with them.

I selected a few from that collection to take in a sheaf to Colorado at Christmas, and the boys were interested to see what I’d brought, and to listen to and with me. After we read my bunch, they brought me two of their favorite books of poetry to read from, one of which was A.A. Milne. Here is one of my offerings that we read, which I really appreciate this week when in my area we are experiencing the Atmospheric River. I am thankful for it, I assure you, but I can relate to feeling “just not the same” with this rainy brain.

RAIN

I opened my eyes
And looked up at the rain,
And it dripped in my head
And flowed into my brain,
And all that I hear as I lie in my bed
Is the slishity-slosh of the rain in my head.

I step very softly,
I walk very slow,
I can’t do a handstand–
I might overflow,
So pardon the wild crazy thing I just said–
I’m just not the same since there’s rain in my head.

-Shel Silverstein