PRECIPITATION
PRECIPITATION
by Casey Bush
that other day
listening to the rain
thought I heard my father’s voice
falling between Morse Code drops
long dead but not erased
audio postcard from the beyond
saved message on the phone
“just calling to say hello…goodbye”
Small, quiet, tender sense of otherworldly communication. I like the immediacy of “thought I heard my father’s voice,” the diversionary “Morse Code drops,” the truncated “long dead” and “saved message” all running together like rainfall. Describing such fleeting yet everlasting moments is one thing poetry should do.