As a perfect complement to my last rain poem, I have recorded my experiences working outside during stormy winters on the Oregon Coast. I’m from arid Montana and after 4 years in Coos Bay, I do believe I completed my metamorphosis from tumbleweed to amphibious mutant! Hope you enjoy this poem, and remember, the best wake up call is to go soak your head!
Wet socks and soggy hair
stuck to my rain gear –
I hang them to dry on a chair,
showering twice, the second
to clean off the remains of the first
primordial broth, encasing me since birth.
When I awoke in the morning storm,
rain that fell all day, muddying me
into a mutant – crude, only partially
recognizable blob of earthen sludge,
watered down and up, horizontal sheets
steadily smacking me left and right.
Fingers pruning like they were
ripening too soon,
aging at uncommon rates
as fast as willows re-sprouting
from a busy beaver’s teeth.
It really makes you wonder if
we are destined to live underwater
or at least spend the winter aquatic
with gills and webbed digits
to cope in a sinking planet,
so far blue, it’s gone fishing.