I'm ready for a change of pace after the series of blogs on Julian of Norwich. And it corresponds with a change in taste. Do you remember when you discovered you like something now (perhaps asparagus or brussel sprouts, maybe paisleys or polka dots) that you couldn't appreciate when you were younger?

My latest re-acquired taste is poetry. Maybe it's because I've realized, as I've written some of my own poetry lately, why people write poetry in the first place. Or at least, some of the reasons why they might. Sometimes there's a concept that doesn't suit itself to analysis, as much as to song. Sometimes you wish to capture a certain feeling that an event or experience imprints on your soul. Sometimes you just want to have fun with words. Whatever the reason, I find myself savoring the poetic more than ever.

So, don't be surprised as you tune in over the next month or two, to find yourself discovering more poems. And if there are some favorites of yours, forward them on. This arrived this morning in a friend's email and immediately transported me back to my childhood - listening to the rain on the roof while I was trying to stay awake, caught by the magical fluidity of pooling water after the rain. Although it can wreak havoc, as our heavy downpours did last week, I still love the rain.

April Rain Song

by Langston Hughes

Let the rain kiss you.
Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops.
Let the rain sing you a lullaby.

The rain makes still pools on the sidewalk.
The rain makes running pools in the gutter.
The rain plays a little sleep-song on our roof at night—

And I love the rain.