Rain falls through the night
Rattling on the roof, rushing down through
The trees and bushes, gurgling in the eaves troughs
By morning rain squalls come less often and
The sky is murky and sullen an in
The good times between showers, a chorus of
Swansons thrush songs emanates from
The underbrush surrounding me while I lie awake
Beside the window savoring their virtuosity
Each song rises up the scale in a tightening spiral
Of doubled notes and becomes thinner
And higher until it spins away in a tiny whirling vortex
-Brandon Hanson
*This poem was published in Celebrate! Poets Speak Out Fall 2004*
Rattling on the roof, rushing down through
The trees and bushes, gurgling in the eaves troughs
By morning rain squalls come less often and
The sky is murky and sullen an in
The good times between showers, a chorus of
Swansons thrush songs emanates from
The underbrush surrounding me while I lie awake
Beside the window savoring their virtuosity
Each song rises up the scale in a tightening spiral
Of doubled notes and becomes thinner
And higher until it spins away in a tiny whirling vortex
-Brandon Hanson
*This poem was published in Celebrate! Poets Speak Out Fall 2004*