Heavens Braille

The tip tap of rain 
on my window pane
heavens braille 
speaking of aquifers, 
of deep set springs 
and surging streams.
Of rivers forging paths 
to open seas
lakes in low lying valleys 
and deep verdant dales.
It speaks to me
of the frozen north, 
polar cold, 
ice and snow 
and arctic air.
I turn over, 
an hour to dawn
and rain lulls me back to sleep.

© Dave Kavanagh @ daithiocaomanaigh.com

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