I remember long veils of green rain
Feathered like the shawl of my grandmother –
Green from the half-green of the spring trees
Waving in the valley.
I remember the road
Like the one which leads to my grandmother’s house,
A warm house, with green carpets,
Geraniums, a trilling canary
And shining horse-hair chairs;
And the silence, full of the rain’s falling
Was like my grandmother’s parlour
Alive with herself and her voice, rising and falling –
Rain and wind intermingled.
I remember on that day
I was thinking only of my love
And of my love’s house.
But now I remember the day
As I remember my grandmother.
I remember the rain as the feathery fringe of her shawl.