Rain makes laughter echo.
How? I won’t pretend to know
But that chuckle of his so freely found
Seems to ring, savored and round
On each drop, splashing gaily and in full mirth
When at last rain is acquainted with earth.
Rain, it has so often beguiled –
and, how this charmed soul smiled! –
With the ease and lift and vibrance
To be found in a thundercloud’s dance.
Such is laughter, or at least, such is his.
So that all that was and all that is:
Gone, only delight. Not just gladness but Joy
Fill the dewdrops and raindrops both.
Do stormclouds pause? To marvel at we
Undeterred. Two laughers beneath,
A pitter patter of rain, an echo found in hearts.
Is that your beat, he says, standing apart?
No, not mine. Nor yours. Nor the rain’s.
I give ghosts their nimbleness.
Age seeps grey where I, so tireless,
Had been infused. Lifeblood of an age,
I was the lockpick to an antiqued cage
Of norms and chilled decorum.
I established a long-lost quorum
Between youth and the wire
That bonds them when the mire
Of the New began. I was, in name,
Forevermore, to blame.
For out of man, a sly romancer
From his partner a fleet dancer,
Disassembly. I conquered rhyme
And scrambled time
In every second an hour raced
At a pounding heartbeat’s pace.
I would have them worry less
Toils shed, my smooth caress
Would fill them, and the overflow
Would then be theirs to know.
I the parent of daughters jealous
To me they came for charm, singing
My praises and from the ringing
Of my melodies and intoxication
Came a sultry exultation
Languish. In I, who tainted grace
With the painted, smirking face
Of the Jazz I am. Do smile,
For I give ghosts their nimbleness
And marionette heartstrings with finesse.
Mine is a tongue the grey still speak
And so Time, who is ever weak,
Is mine by the day.
Claim me. Sway.