(Photo by Ryoji Iwata on Unsplash)
Rain
by Dawn Pisturino
Drizzling rain
On the windowpane
Calms my stormy brain,
Bringing sunshine again.
~
My husband and I have both been going stir crazy with the gloomy, rainy weather. Plus, it’s freezing cold!
We welcome the sunshine!
Dawn Pisturino
January 20, 2023
Copyright 2023 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
Labor Day weekend wasn’t quite what I expected this year. On Friday evening, a terrible storm blew through which brought high winds and rain that knocked down a cellphone tower. Some people lost both their electrical power and Internet service. Some people still do not have their Internet service restored.
After five weeks of monsoon rains, we got more rain. The desert is in bloom again, with greenery and yellow wildflowers everywhere. The wash behind our property has been inundated with flash floods over and over again, something I haven’t seen in years. Along with the plants came an invasion of green and yellow caterpillars. I have no idea where they came from, but they will metamorphose into white-lined sphinx moths. They are busy munching on the green plants. There are so many of them, you have to be careful where you walk. Thankfully, they are starting to disappear. Every time you move one of them, they squirt out a nasty green liquid. I haven’t seen an increase in moths, though, so I don’t know where they’re going.
Otherwise, the weather was hot and muggy, normal for Labor Day weekend. Sunday was no exception. The sky was sunny and blue with just a few fluffy white clouds. It was a perfect day, in fact. But later in the afternoon, storm clouds gathered over the mountains in the east, and you could see a curtain of rain falling on the eastern side of the valley. The wind came up suddenly, and that curtain quickly crossed the valley and hit our house.
I can’t remember ever seeing so much rain, thunder, and lightning in my life (and we’ve been hit with bad storms before). Lightning flashed all around the house — so close, I was afraid it would come through the windows. The rain ferociously pounded the ground, flooding the yard. The wind blew everything off the porch that wasn’t anchored down. Later, we found that the wind had damaged one of the posts on our covered front porch (deck) and bent metal piping on our dog’s kennel.
The power kept flickering on and off, so I finally just turned everything off. Appliances that weren’t even turned on flickered on and off, which really freaked me out. After everything had calmed down, I opened the windows and let the cool, moist air inside. Since it was near sunset, the air turned wonderful shades of yellow and pink, which were incredible.
Our power came back on right away, but down on the Colorado River, it was a different story. The storm started out with a huge sandstorm, with the wind blowing 65 mph and gusts up to 85 mph. Nearly 40,000 residents in the region lost their electrical power when 50 power poles were split in two. Then the rains came. People boating, jet skiing, and camping in the campground were hit hard. Thankfully, I haven’t heard of any fatalities.
On Monday, my husband spent a lot of time on his cellphone contacting co-workers and friends to make sure they were okay. The temperature hit 114 degrees F, the power was out, and people had no air conditioning. People were checking into motels and hotels on the other side of the river, where the power was still intact. Cooling stations were set up to help people stay cool. And, of course, people were swimming in the Colorado River, whose waters are always cold.
Electrical power was predicted to be out for 24 to 36 hours, but the power companies in the region all pooled their resources and got a lot of things up and running again within 24 hours. Some residences and businesses are still without power as I write this, however. My husband’s doctor’s office was closed on Tuesday because their power was still out. He’s having knee surgery next Monday, so he was freaking out about it.
I’m grateful for the rain, despite the damage. Maybe the drought will finally end. Of course, too much rain can be even worse!
Dawn Pisturino
September 7, 2022
Copyright 2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
Poems about Wind
by Dawn Pisturino
~
In French and English:
Au Vent To the Wind
Souffles, O vent, Blow, O wind,
Dis à mon oreille Speak into my ear
Un doux mot d’amour; A sweet word of love;
Emportes mes rêves, Carry away my dreams,
Rapportes mes souhaits, Bring back my wishes,
Et n’oublies pas, pour toujours, And don’t forget, always,
Ὰ chanter une belle chanson. To sing a beautiful song.
5 mai 1985 May 5, 1985
pour mon ami, J.J. for my friend, J.J.
~
Wind
Wind, wind, holler and cry,
The windows are shaking, the doors want to fly!
The old tree is creaking, it surely must fall;
The chimney is cracking, bricks, mortar and all!
How everything shudders! I mustn’t delay:
We have, it would seem, a tornado today.
May 3, 1986
~
Dawn Pisturino
April 6, 2022
Copyright 1985-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
Dedicated to my Husband and Daughter
It was early in the morning, and a young woman and her husband were driving to the train station. Temporarily, at least, the rain had stopped. The air was pleasantly fresh and clear, though oh! so cold, and here and there a patch of blue showed through the thick November clouds. Pale sunlight shone thinly against the grey morning dampness, brightening just a little the depressing aspect of the city.
“Oh look, a rainbow!” the young woman cried, pointing out the window.
Her husband, who was driving, looked up into the distant sky. Sure enough, half of a large rainbow emerged from a thick grey cloud.
The woman’s face beamed with happiness. “Isn’t that lovely?” she said. “It makes the whole morning beautiful.”
As they drove down the muddy narrow road which ran alongside the railroad tracks, the rainbow seemed to grow more distinct. Soon they could see each end of the rainbow, though the middle was still hidden by clouds.
“Now you can see both ends,” the woman cried eagerly.
“See where it goes,” her husband said. “Maybe I can find my pot of gold.”
The woman searched the sky, trying to determine beginning and end.
“It seems to stretch between the hills over there” — (she pointed left) — “and downtown over there” — (she pointed right.)
“Where does that story come from, anyways?” her husband asked.
“The Irish, I think. You know, leprechauns and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
“Yeah,” said her husband, a greedy grin on his youthful face. “I’d like to find a pot of gold at the end of it.”
The young woman frowned. “Oh, Jim, that’s all you care about is money. Can’t you think of anything else?”
“Not when we don’t have any,” he answered.
The woman said nothing more, and they drove along in silence until they arrived at the station. But when Jim was helping her out of the car, she suddenly noticed the other rainbow.
“Now look,” she said triumphantly, pointing at the sky. “There are two rainbows!”
Above the first rainbow, which was growing brighter by the minute, half of a second rainbow could be seen.
“That’s unusual to see two rainbows,” she said thoughtfully. While the young couple watched together, the first rainbow grew stronger and more distinct as the sunlight shifted.
“Now you can see the whole arch!” the woman exclaimed. Truly, it was lovely. The rainbow colors stood clear and vivid against the somber grey sky. “That’s rare to see such a rainbow,” she said, grabbing her husband’s hand and squeezing it tightly. Indeed, the colors seemed almost unnatural.
“And remember, Sharon, there are two,” Jim reminded her gently. “Perhaps they’re man and wife — like us.”
Sharon giggled. “Which one is the man?” she asked playfully.
“The one on the bottom is the strongest.” Jim put his arm around his wife’s ample waist and hugged her close.
“On the bottom, right where he belongs,” Sharon teased.
Her husband laughed. “Actually, I rather like it when you’re on top.”
Sharon pounded him lightly in the stomach. “You’re incorrigible, you beast!”
The young man patted his wife’s swollen belly, feeling the unborn child move inside. “When rainbows make love, do they make little rainbows?” he whispered in her ear.
“How else could there be rainbows,” she whispered back.
“Actually, there are rainbows all the time. We just don’t see them.”
“My husband, the brilliant scientist!”
Suddenly the skies opened up, and a great rain began to fall. The wind whipped up, chilling them to the bone. Laughing wildly, the young couple ran onto the covered platform.
“I love rain like this!'” shouted the young woman over the roar of the downpour.
“I don’t like getting wet all the time,” shouted her husband, who was more practical. “Here comes the train!”
Down the track, the two bright headlights pierced the misty, watery veil of rain, and in a few moments, the train pulled into the station. The woman hugged her husband tightly and kissed him passionately on his warm lips. “You smell so good,” she murmured, snuggling close to his big, warm body.
“I have to go,” he said, disentangling himself from her clinging embrace. “Have a good day. Rest!”
“I will,” she promised, smiling. “Have a good day!”
She waited until he was safely on the train, waved good-bye, then ran into the rain. Behind her, the train began to move slowly down the track. She couldn’t help herself. She stopped and watched as the train gathered speed and chugged out of sight. She pulled her drenched jacket closer around her bulging body. Rain poured down her face and hair. In a moment, she heard the train whistle blasting farther down the track. “I love you,” she whispered, and a lump formed in her throat. Tears watered her eyes, spilled over, and ran down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. She turned and ran as fast as she could to the car.
She climbed into the car and turned the key. The engine sputtered, died, then caught again. She pulled out of the parking space and followed once more the primitive road which ran beside the railroad tracks. She was wet and cold and eager to get home to a hot shower. Her husband was gone to work, the babe was safe and warm inside her. The day would be long and lonely. The rain would carry on, darkening their small apartment. Still, she was happy and content. She had followed her rainbow long ago. She had found her pot of gold.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day!
Dawn Pisturino
November 1983
Copyright 1983-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
The Girl who Hated the Sun
by Dawn Pisturino
she hated the sun
how it filled up heaven
with energy and light
too hot and bright . . .
The poem popped into Katie’s head as she stood on the front porch, eyes closed, arms wide open, daring the Sun to kill her. Kill me, she urged, like you spoiled our farm, drove away my father, and wasted my mother. Go ahead. Do it!
The Sun swallowed her whole, dissolving her in his fiery belly.
Now that she was part of the Sun, Katie could ride through the heavens and visualize everything that happened down below.
She saw the grim black hearse pull up to the farm, and wept, as two men in plain black suits carried her mother away on a gurney. She sailed freely over the dusty brown fields that no longer yielded crops. She mourned the beds of sunflowers whose heads sagged, like dying children, out by the barn. And she said good-bye to the rusty old truck that sat, without tires, in a patch of yellow weeds.
Soon, the Pacific Ocean sparkled down below. Dolphins leaped among the waves. Throngs of people crowded the streets of Beijing, scurrying around like busy mice. Katie soared above the icy peaks of the Himalayas and swooped down to burn the white sands of Arabia. She waved at the Statue of Liberty, rejoicing that she finally got to see it.
And then she was home again, viewing the crumbling barn in pinkish light that gradually turned to yellow. She counted the shingles missing from the roof of the old house and peeked through the windows of her shabby bedroom.
And the journey repeated itself as the earth slowly turned, like a giant spit — repeated itself, day after day, until Katie cried with weariness and pain.
Now, she hovered over the old farm, shining brightly against a piece of broken glass lying in the withered grass, until one small yellow flame burst forth, catching the grass on fire. A passing breeze nudged the fire toward the house. The splintered wood burned brightly, throwing sparks into the sky. The old barn caught the sparks and exploded, fueled by old cans of paint. Showers of burning wood and straw ignited the patch of weeds. The ripped out upholstery in the old truck burst into flame. The oil pan smoldered, sending black smoke into the sky. And finally, with one burst of energy, the fuel tank exploded.
With grim satisfaction Katie cried, “I’ve killed it! I’ve killed my past life!” She snuggled up to the Sun, melting deeper into his fiery depths . . . while down below, a tiny piece of the world disappeared forever.
Dawn Pisturino
November 14, 2012
Copyright 2012-2022 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
The first white snow of winter
Falls softly on the ground;
The world looks like a fairy land
With snowflakes all around;
The trees dress up like fairies
Dancing on the snow: —
Magic happens everywhere
The fairies dance, you know.
I love the first white winter storm,
The air is cold and frosty;
I stay indoors where it is warm,
But through the windows I can see
How suddenly the world turns white
And disappears beneath the snow;
The season changes overnight
From autumn’s bright to winter’s glow.
by Dawn Pisturino, 1985.
For my daughter, Ariel.
Copyright 1985-2021 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
Dedicated to my Husband and Daughter
It was early in the morning, and a young woman and her husband were driving to the train station. Temporarily, at least, the rain had stopped. The air was pleasantly fresh and clear, though oh! so cold, and here and there a patch of blue showed through the thick November clouds. Pale sunlight shone thinly against the grey morning dampness, brightening just a little the depressing aspect of the city.
“Oh look, a rainbow!” the young woman cried, pointing out the window.
Her husband, who was driving, looked up into the distant sky. Sure enough, half of a large rainbow emerged from a thick grey cloud.
The woman’s face beamed with happiness. “Isn’t that lovely?” she said. “It makes the whole morning beautiful.”
As they drove down the muddy narrow road which ran alongside the railroad tracks, the rainbow seemed to grow more distinct. Soon they could see each end of the rainbow, though the middle was still hidden by clouds.
“Now you can see both ends,” the woman cried eagerly.
“See where it goes,” her husband said. “Maybe I can find my pot of gold.”
The woman searched the sky, trying to determine beginning and end.
“It seems to stretch between the hills over there” — (she pointed left) — “and downtown over there” — (she pointed right.)
“Where does that story come from, anyways?” her husband asked.
“The Irish, I think. You know, leprechauns and the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
“Yeah,” said her husband, a greedy grin on his youthful face. “I’d like to find a pot of gold at the end of it.”
The young woman frowned. “Oh, Jim, that’s all you care about is money. Can’t you think of anything else?”
“Not when we don’t have any,” he answered.
The woman said nothing more, and they drove along in silence until they arrived at the station. But when Jim was helping her out of the car, she suddenly noticed the other rainbow.
“Now look,” she said triumphantly, pointing at the sky. “There are two rainbows!”
Above the first rainbow, which was growing brighter by the minute, half of a second rainbow could be seen.
“That’s unusual to see two rainbows,” she said thoughtfully. While the young couple watched together, the first rainbow grew stronger and more distinct as the sunlight shifted.
“Now you can see the whole arch!” the woman exclaimed. Truly, it was lovely. The rainbow colors stood clear and vivid against the somber grey sky. “That’s rare to see such a rainbow,” she said, grabbing her husband’s hand and squeezing it tightly. Indeed, the colors seemed almost unnatural.
“And remember, Sharon, there are two,” Jim reminded her gently. “Perhaps they’re man and wife — like us.”
Sharon giggled. “Which one is the man?” she asked playfully.
“The one on the bottom is the strongest.” Jim put his arm around his wife’s ample waist and hugged her close.
“On the bottom, right where he belongs,” Sharon teased.
Her husband laughed. “Actually, I rather like it when you’re on top.”
Sharon pounded him lightly in the stomach. “You’re incorrigible, you beast!”
The young man patted his wife’s swollen belly, feeling the unborn child move inside. “When rainbows make love, do they make little rainbows?” he whispered in her ear.
“How else could there be rainbows,” she whispered back.
“Actually, there are rainbows all the time. We just don’t see them.”
“My husband, the brilliant scientist!”
Suddenly the skies opened up, and a great rain began to fall. The wind whipped up, chilling them to the bone. Laughing wildly, the young couple ran onto the covered platform.
“I love rain like this!'” shouted the young woman over the roar of the downpour.
“I don’t like getting wet all the time,” shouted her husband, who was more practical. “Here comes the train!”
Down the track, the two bright headlights pierced the misty, watery veil of rain, and in a few moments, the train pulled into the station. The woman hugged her husband tightly and kissed him passionately on his warm lips. “You smell so good,” she murmured, snuggling close to his big, warm body.
“I have to go,” he said, disentangling himself from her clinging embrace. “Have a good day. Rest!”
“I will,” she promised, smiling. “Have a good day!”
She waited until he was safely on the train, waved good-bye, then ran into the rain. Behind her, the train began to move slowly down the track. She couldn’t help herself. She stopped and watched as the train gathered speed and chugged out of sight. She pulled her drenched jacket closer around her bulging body. Rain poured down her face and hair. In a moment, she heard the train whistle blasting farther down the track. “I love you,” she whispered, and a lump formed in her throat. Tears watered her eyes, spilled over, and ran down her cheeks, mingling with the rain. She turned and ran as fast as she could to the car.
She climbed into the car and turned the key. The engine sputtered, died, then caught again. She pulled out of the parking space and followed once more the primitive road which ran beside the railroad tracks. She was wet and cold and eager to get home to a hot shower. Her husband was gone to work, the babe was safe and warm inside her. The day would be long and lonely. The rain would carry on, darkening their small apartment. Still, she was happy and content. She had followed her rainbow long ago. She had found her pot of gold.
Dawn Pisturino
November 1983
A true story. Written while I was pregnant.
Copyright 1983-2016 Dawn Pisturino. All Rights Reserved.
Dawn Pisturino's Blog 