Under the Eaves

Here is a short poem I wrote the other day. I hope you enjoy it:

Under the Eaves

If I sit long enough
I can hear
the rain dance on a thousand rooftops,
splish in fierce torrents under passing cars,
drip, a high ping from an eave to the ground.
And to this wild concert of sound
the tin pitched gush of the drainpipe,
the low murmer of the gutter,
I add my breath in soft circles
passing the sweet tang
of rain blessed air
into my world.

All is very quiet, All is still.
For who would be out here?
Watching the earth drink?
The heavens open?
You'd get soaked.

Ah, perhaps there is memory yet to be guided by
Little ears,
little toes,
little eyes
and I know
if we sit long enough
Shhhhh.
Magic still happens.