http://slow.writerscafe.org/ksrainwater The original writings of author Kelly Rainwater en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1775994124 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 The Live Oak tree stood half-way up the hill. Forests were above, with canyons belowand on a nearby rocka Temescal Indian carved"a Chief died here." There were boys, who years ago,climbed its dying branchesand shot imaginary Indiansthrough windows of forts fashione.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/384820/  Dreams are funny that way. Last night you were eight againand the waitress looked at me for affirmation when youordered three chocolate chip cookiesand a glass of milk. Don’t you want half a turkey sandwich, I asked.   You just kept reading a comic book... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/362132/ I knew all about sweet corn and Jonathan apples and red table grapes. And tomatoes and beets and dark green, leafy spinach. And sugar peas, string beans, carrots and cucumbers. If it grew in Granddad’s post-war Victory Garden, I had helped plant and water and feed and harvest just about anythi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/350178/ After all these years, I still turn for home at the First flickering of the street light.  But the cool bath after a hot day,And clean, cotton pajamasFresh from the line, no longer await.  I brush aside the echo of her voice, Knowing that being forty-threeMeans I c.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/280267/  I have a patio, flagstoned and envelopedby palms and papyrus, aboundingwith lilies and hummingbirds and a cascadingfountain masking the sound of trafficfrom the street below: so Mediterraneanand perfect for tapas and pitchers of Sangria. In the night, I hear musi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/247023/ No Roatan amber honey setting into liquid bronze:only palettes of white and blackmixed carelessly into gray-on-graystorm clouds-on-clouds, raining into steely lakes and rivers. No mahogany clay terraces or viridian hillsides surrounding pink granite quarries; no pale striati.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/225713/ The air has been warm and the breeze steady the past few weeks. I've been busy in the yard, clearing away the damage from the frost in February. There has been a lot of pruning and watering and fertilizing, a lot of digging up and moving and rearranging. The past two weeks have seen the addition o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218628/ I remember awaking Christmas morning to sunshine, oh, such sunshine, filtering through the bedroom curtains. As I drew them back, I could see that the potted amaryllis and narcissus on the patio table, one red, the other white, were rejoicing in a warmth seemingly stolen from summer. What wonderfu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218626/ Today when I spied the Liquid Amber beginning to turn in color while the pink and white Vincas and Lipstick Hibiscus are still in full bloom, I realized that it is truly autumn in my corner of the world.  That first cranberry leaf still clinging to the lower branch reminded me of chi.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218624/ It arrived today: neither a box nor a package, but a parcel: bundled and replete in brown paper and cotton twine. With no return address, it held a postmarkfrom a place I will always call homein spite of a quarter-century separation marked by three thousand miles of life.  .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218621/ My La Moreneta, you were not rendered by the hand of St. Luke, nor carried to safetyin the arms of St. Peter, nor found by shepherds  in Santa Cova, oh, Holy Grotto. St. Ignatius prayed at your feet, never knowingit may have been Isis and Horus he worshipped, instead. .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218619/ We traveled three hours along the coast, passing gray dolphins dancing in white surf, and migrant workers, stooped low to the ground, picking red berries in the late afternoon sun. Fearful of looking into your eyes, miles were filled with mine glued to the road and conversation pepper.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218618/ You understand now, in twilight's dimming, that while in your full day's sun there was nothing from which to choose:  all was an illusionary oasis, filled with false promise and hope of salvation.  So you come, Old Man,with time's desert burying all memory. You seek my me.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218617/ There is no unknowing you. I believed I could be thousands of miles and several years awayand somehow learnto unlearn everything you arethat altered everything in me.Yet here I am,crossing the bridge,passing jeweler after jeweler who replaced tanner after tanner,which only fo.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218615/ Oh, Saint Irene, I finally understand Why proud ThiraCalls you by name, For it is in your Winding streets andIn your basket vineyards; It is in your caldera's echoOf the tolling church bells; It is in the azure of your skies And waters Where peace is finally found.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218613/ Skyward, I lift my eyes. Through the swaying palmsthe half-moon appears suspended between the end of day andedge of nightand you wonder aloud how it can be that my skin glows warm blue in the shadows, as blue as the lapis sea.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218611/ Beyond the canopy of wind-sculpted umbrella pines, and through the grove of silvered olive trees, I came uponan endless fieldof sunflowers with faces raised to the warmthof summer,defying the end of their season.   http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218610/ "It's time for your nap" she whisperedas she laid me to rest in her single bed. The window was open half-way andthrough it I could see her gardensand feel the breeze blowing, movingthe curtains in a most rhythmic manner: up, up, up (and hold) then down, down, down,ov.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/218607/ Her spoons were wooden, her whisk: a fork, four-tined andstainless. No microplane to zest her citrus andnothing more than a paring knife to peel and core autumn's applesor pears and summer's plumsand nectarines. Her bacon press: a #2 can atop a dinner plate; her bread m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204734/ I crossed the bridge between midnight and dawnand thought I heard you: whispers without a voice. The breeze I knew to be the breath from your sigh             filled my head with mingling fragrances     &nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204731/ Was it only yesterday, when you smiled upon me, kissing my cheeks, allowing your heat to penetrate throughout an endless night?I awoke this morning, finding you gone without notice, leaving me cold, damp, bare. I knew this day would arrive, yet I was not preparedfor it so.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204728/ After a blueberry summer dayfilled with gooseberry buckles,brimming sweet and current jams, translucent red, gleaming pink,let’s clam the Silver Strandbefore the sinking sunbrings rise to Herculean skiesand we can harvest no more. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204727/ I imagine you in cotton at night. I feel the flannel against my bare skinas I lie beside you, my legs entwined with yours.For a moment, the warm softness comforts me,yet I know it will only be a matter of timebefore we need skin upon skin. That’s just how we are.  Breath.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204725/ Inching along, bumper-to-bumper, 97 degrees at 6:38pm.It's not even July. Let's drive to Wyandotte, instead, down Fort Street, all the way toBob Jo's Frozen Custard. It's only 2500 miles and 30 years ago, yetI can still taste the vanilla, sucking it from the bottom of the cone, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204721/ When you look into my eyesand touch my face; and our shared whispers reveal our souls; When a moment in time stretchesto endless hoursand we are nearing the rising dawn; When I feel you so deeply,your heart speaking from within mine, feeling as though you were borne from meor was.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204716/ You laughed easily, as if we had laughed togetherbefore. You, so relaxed, extolling the virtuesof raw Chiantiwith grape seedresplendency in thebottom of the glass, and me, toying withan oaky Chardonnay, drinking in everynuance of your spirit; smiling for what felt like .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204712/ Ice cream and Sparks in the dark,courtesy of candlelight.Cold hearts, chocolate heartsmelting on my tongue, one by one. Windows open,breezes carrying the powerless sounds of a town going to sleep:crickets and dogs and a car or two.A precious hour to contemplatethe symboli.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204708/ Just as its legs clung to the glass,Its sweetness lingered on your lips:A mere hint of grapefruit. Sensations surging, more than simple tannins dancing on my tongue.The feel of bass reverberating,keeping perfect time with my heart, beat for beat.Through open windows a salty br.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204705/ Where your desert meets my ocean, there will I meet you. Come dip your feet in my waters: they are warm.Let me crash upon your shore,my power carrying you to worlds you’ve never known. With every ebb and flow I touch you:The sands of your being are my foundation.Cradled in your bas.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/ksrainwater/204701/