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Waiting
for Rain
A Poem by:
Jan
Oskar Hansen
Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the
Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written
consent.
| Most days, on my
way to the bar and grocery shop,
I walk past an old man who sits in the shade of an oak,
on a sofa that has lost its place in the lounge. I stop
and talk to him and since he can't remember me from
one day to the next, he tells me the same disjointed
story, something about his mother and father and
a strange town in the interior of Portugal. Today he
isn't there only the blanket he wraps around himself.
After five, a whisper of a wind tells me that he will
not be back. "Will I be that old?" I ask the waning
sun.
"Will I want to? Do I dare?" These late September
days, quiet and contemplative, here in the vale where
I live, we wait for rain.
Jan Oskar Hansen
Copyright © 2004
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