Cowls by Mike Keating Lyrics

Rain mutters ptt ptt ptt as it bounces
And shhh, shhh, as it shtreaks and shrooms
Carting dust, caressing and cleansing the path.

A great joy, a rich, aerated joy
Is dancing with rain, rolling in loam,
Naked, unshielded.

Adult, I wear my solid chemical shell
To approach rain.
And the rain hits, rebounds
Pick pick pitter pitter, spitting.
At my coat.

The chop, chop chop of propeller blades
Barely tickles the green depth

Inside a tent, with thup thup thup on canvas.
A tight packed bundle of seven cubs at ten of the morning,
Cool breeze strolling through the tent like Lord Emsworth,
Was the best part of camp.
No need to fake enjoyment in the hike or games
But free to hear clear, over drp drp drp,
An old world washed wakeful.
Birdsong unafraid, natural with unpretence,
Letting flow their own flow

And when the rain had said its say
Water having caressed the dust away,
The wet would smell cool and clean
The surface cleansed.

Slltt slltt slllt against plastic.

The best of times have always been when one knows no time
When one with the warming rain, clothed in life's cloth.
Cloth that accepts both sun and rain.
Unclothed we share with rain, bind to the world.
Unseparate again. Clothes are cowls that mark us human,
Not divine.