Longing
The ‘rainbirds’ have started calling,
the cicadas who start with a clack clack
that speeds up like a train on the track,
and then morphs into a brassy wild siren
that tears into the fabric of the day –
an aching, sustaining scream.
Still early spring,
rains are months away
but in the heat of the day, the rainbirds
are longing, longing, as do I
for rain, for growth,
for the fruiting of age.
©Susa Silvermarie 2026
“They shall bear fruit in old age; They shall be fresh and flourishing” Psalm 92
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