We spend our winters building hardened resistance Through the routine of shoulder hunching and thickening blood As gradually the filtered light that shifts Across wood panels and kitchen tiles Lingers into longer hours.
Without cognizance, we let fall Our experiences, as a dog Sheds its winter coat Throughout Each houseroom.
Leaving our Convictions as paper scraps to be Swept up with toast crumbs – and our tear drops for mopping.
Never knowing the Featherweight Of our skin Until it is.
And we stand Pondering The swiftness of Transformation.
The rain came down on Seoul. My soul it bathed and seduced. For a sole wanderer far from home, Seoul filled my sole soul with youth.
It’s raining today and I don’t want it to be. It’s a cold, dreary January rain and I want nothing more than for it to be snowing. I am deeply craving the quiet that comes with powdery snow, and the even deeper cold that comes with that snow. I am not quite sure why. I have always identified myself as a “summer person.” Despite the fact that I want it to be snowing, the current weather reminded me of this brief poem that I wrote some time ago while reminiscing about living in Korea. I lived there ten years ago.
Summer came early that year in Korea, bringing heat and heaviness to the air. The trademarks of summer that I was used to–blue skies, clear sunshine–were not there. Even on cloudless days, the sun was obscured by haze. It rained a lot in July, and even when the clouds left the sky, the sun was but a blurred glow, having the same effect as viewing a light through a frosted window. In those days I welcomed the rain. For a few years after I returned from Korea, hot and rainy summer days often flooded my mind with memories of my time overseas. All weather talk aside, I loved spending time in Seoul and would go back again in a heartbeat.
Although as I am writing this, it is not hot and humid, and is in fact January, and on top of that I want nothing more than two feet of snow, I still could not resist posting a blurb about summer rain in Seoul.