Early Morning Rain
“I know that song,” she said,
“but don’t look at me when I sing."
He looked at her: Not smiling,
serious… maybe a little sad.
“Okay,” he said, turning
to the window, running some chords,
tuning a string. “Weathered words
to this one. Ready?” She said nothing.
And they began—softly
at first—her third floating over
his lead, her voice rising clear
as a Deerfield pond. Sweet harmony.
What is it about song?
Like we’re all tangled up in blue.
Like we haven’t got a clue
what our hearts have to say till we sing.
Outside, the all-day rain
was letting up. Bit of light mist,
breaking clouds. “The sun at last,”
he said, and turned. Her eyes were shining.
John Perrault is author of Jefferson’s Dream (Hobblebush Books), Here Comes the Old Man Now (Oyster River Press), Ballad of Louis Wagner (Peter Randall Publisher), and most recently a chapbook, Season of Shagginess, from Finishing Line Press. A Pushcart Nominee, John has
published in Blue Unicorn, Christian Science Monitor, Commonweal, Comstock Review, Innisfree Poetry Journal, Poet Lore, and elsewhere. He has also recorded nine albums of original songs and ballads. John is a former Portsmouth, NH, poet laureate. www.johnperrault.com