Born in South Carolina, raised in Atlanta, m.a. wood relocated to Annandale-on-Hudson New York as a teen. There she attended Bard College. She worked as a recreation therapist for ten years and then moved into the business world, specifically working with healthful food, party and retreat planning, and hotel management. She did a short stint as the 3rd mate on the Clearwater and then decided to go into teaching. She is an English Language Arts teacher.
Rain is falling in drips and drops instead of streams,
Pretending to run for cover neighborhood kids, secretly pray for more rain.
Over the hollow resound of water dripping in the drain pipe, I hear a voice calling my name.
No one in the stillness of the neighborhood takes their garbage can out early on rainy mornings.
Finished, or almost finished with its dropping for today the rain holds us at bay.
The fire on the mountain relishes this rain.
The sound of a distant train whistles a rain refrain.
The sky is a grey place calming even almighty sun.
The window tappin; is rain’s little drummer boy.
I remain in bed, comforted by her lullaby.
If I open my eyes now, I could cry rain.
Taking the dog out and Tilting my head back, I could taste the rain.
We are possibilities grown from rain. Whenever it rains you…
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Categories: Notifications, Poetry
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