Renter's Wallow


In the valley that I grew up in,
Whenever it rained,
it was typically a dancing mist, a sprinkling in the middle of May.
The onset was quick and the ending was quicker,
Those showers, I thought, were closer to a broken hose, than a river.

I remember the few times in my childhood,
When it truly rained.
To stand there? Euphoric, amidst that cavalcade.

I wish that when it rained, it poured.
I wish I felt what it's like be a plant,
held on, last stand, a single strand,
one grounded root,
in the flowing river of the stars above,
the sky's tears, the earth's sweat.
All these things and more;
one torrential downpour.

I named myself Mint
to take on that bitter freshness,
to lie on the tongue of the world.
Sometimes I dream I could wash the mouth
of its wrath,
of its gluttony,
of its often-lacking
appreciation for the rain.

Showers are my guilty pleasure,
I used to take them twice a day,
But I am not just my name,
Much to my skin's dismay.

But if I could sit and soak
and revel a day away,
I think I'd like to do it
amidst the pouring rain.
← a purple and yellow 3d visualization of a conway glider →
a web button with an orange square on the left and a violet rectangle on the right, with the words 'clementine page' scrawled messily on it. a web button with a black background, pink flower on the left and the words grace.pink in big letters on the right. a web button displaying a shelf with a potted plant, palette, book on top. In the shelf there are big purple letters that spell Mint.