Outside rain plays its prolonged summer song.
Gray windowpanes record earth's silent cry.
Faint light is just a whisper caught by time,
Words spare and elegant, long lost in space.
Fingers are warmed by what a mood can make.
Touch is as delicate as filigree.
Wind blows the candle of our landscape out.
It takes us, Friend, where all old raindrops go.
Sandra Fowler
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-summer-song/
