It’s always raining in my head
Sometimes there are cross-winds
And often interminable white noise,
Static that comes before and after storms.
Always raining, from light hissing drizzle
To persistent shards pounding the windows of my eyes.
Sometimes when the night is weighty with silence
I hear the globules of rain flaunt descant and harmony as
They drift around the contours of my skull in vivid orchestration
Often the wind rises exponentially
Obliterating my hope for potential creativity.
Yes, it’s always raining in my head.
Within the landscape of my cranium I have the auditory pulses
Of every season
Soft April showers
The cascade of summer flood
Autumnal gales
And Winter snow’s vibrato hiss.
Always, always raining in my head
With static, that interminable white noise
That comes before and after storms.
Trudie Shannon
