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					                       Hail Rain Well Met
                    No Poem about No Good Sense
                                     by Alan Harris
TODAY WHILE I WAS WALKING toward the restaurant about a mile from home, I
heard faint rumblings in the indefinite northwest, but decided to take a chance that I
could finish my lunch mission without disaster. I reached the restaurant and had a
fine meal of three eggs, hash browns, and toast. As I walked back outdoors, I ob-
served that there was still no rain, so I congratulated myself on my meteorological
prowess.

By the time I had walked only a block toward home, however, drops were in the air.
The rain began tentatively in an "I don't know whether I'm going to just dribble on
you or really break loose and let you have it" mode. I had no umbrella, and only a
cardigan sweater for a wrap. There was no one to telephone, nothing to do but keep
walking.

Gradually the May rain intensified as I played the dignified fool who didn't know
enough to come in out of it--a fool who was also wearing new shoes that allowed
rainwater to be cozy with his toes. Before long I saw beads of hail bouncing all
around me--quite small, about the size of little pills. Lightning was zitting close by,
thunder was showing off its surround-sound, and I was by this time a thoroughly
soaked stoic.

Halfway home, I considered milking this experience for a new poem, using at the be-
ginning the soft tap of gentle raindrops tickling the tree leaves, then the crescendo of
pattering on the leaves as the rain intensified, then the enthusiastic applause heard
in an utter downpour, and finally the dice-like scamperings of tiny hailstones across
the sidewalk. All of these might be in the poem, I mused, not wishing to waste an
embarrassment.

But when I arrived home, I just took off all my clothes and threw them into the
dryer. No poem came, but I did recall the wisdom related to me by Sister Davina, an
Irish nun in her eighties who, sixteen years ago, was walking beside me through a
light rain. Unconcerned, she said, "You get wet, you get dry."

                       Copyright © 1998 by Alan Harris. All rights reserved.
                         From An Everywhere Oasis at www.alharris.com

				
DOCUMENT INFO
Description: A variety of poems and stories and Mqlat words of poems and poetic advice NES Poems Hair Entries hair Books Notice Stories by Alan Harris, 2003-2007 Poems, Poems, Hair, Entries hair, Books, Notice, Stories, by Alan Harris, 2003-2007 Short Stories USPEND YOUR RATIONAL mind for a while, if you will, as you read the stories in this collection. Let yourself enjoy the irrationality of a businessman who chucks everything to go begging, a six-year-old boy who learns for the first time how it feels to be late to school, a fourteen-year-old boy who builds his own catamaran with mixed success, a young mental hospital orderly's rambling consciousness, a young rooster who refuses to accept undeserved accolades from the hens, a half-human, half-motorcycle motorcentaur on a serious joyride in the desert, a farmer who innerly berates his careless son for spilling a wagon load of corn on the road, a waitressing farmer's wife who endures a truck stop robbery, and a young rural swindler who finds forgiveness among the surrounding farmers. Several of these stories were written around 1968 and revised in 1996. If you can suspend your rationality and disbelief, perhaps they will do something for you. Something good, let's hope. Your feedback is welcome at oasis@alharris.com. --Alan Harris