Louisiana Rain: A Summer Poem

new-orleans watercolor art @yevgeniawatts.com

Louisiana is the wettest place that I have ever lived. The sky opens up and pours rain for days at a time. It’s also the hottest place I’ve ever lived, where 100 degree sun beats down upon you from June through September, baking every flowering plant that tries to grow into oblivion. The things and people that live here understand that they need to be resilient, to find a way to cope with extremes.

Louisianans go out in the rain, barefoot – they help dig ditches, put on a pot of beans to simmer and proudly wave purple and gold flags outside their doors. The rain doesn’t stop the parades or the random street bands – doesn’t stop them putting on their boots and boiling up some crawfish. The heat doesn’t stop them from spending the summer in the sun, fishing and swimming in the muddy lake water that feels like a warm bath.


The longer I stay in Louisiana, the more I begin to feel it creeping into my bones, settling there like an old friend or a memory. I always loved the rain, but this rain is different from the cold Midwestern rains that came and went fast, leaving a chill behind. Southern rain is slower, warmer, longer – and lingers afterward. Southern heat is also slower, longer – lingering for many months, hanging in the air as if to say “I belong here.”

I’m not sure yet if I belong here, in the rain and the heat which is so much a part of the fabric of Louisiana. Each year I feel a bit more a part of it, but not completely of it. Perhaps this will always be true, no matter how long I live here or where I move after.

This morning, like many mornings here, I woke to rain. And I wrote.

Louisiana Rain 

House quiet, asleep, early morning rain

tip-tapping at my window

soft piano music tinkling

grey light falls through the slats.


I sit, watching the rain

its constant fall from the roof

dripping in a steady stream

soaking soft ground below.


This grey day hangs in a mist around me

enfolding me in a drowsy, still-sleepy state

a stillness, as the raindrops

move around me, dancing lightly.


They tempt me to come outside

my bare feet sinking into wet grass

face upturned to the open sky

tasting warm drops on my tongue.

Copyright August 18, 2017 Stacie Eirich

Originally posted May 17 2016

Little Tiny, Big Magnificient

On the snowy March evening when I was born, weighing 4 pounds – my Dad held me in the palm of his hand, calling me peanut. I was always the smallest kid in class, the tiniest dancer in the recital.  I remember how enormous the stage felt around me, how my voice echoed against its vast space, the warped wooden floor seeming to go on forever into the blackness of the house. Everything felt big, wide – and I was just a speck in the midst of an enormous world.

I was loud with laughter, jumping and tapping and singing. Was this because of my perceived insignificance? As a woman, years later – do I still feel this way? As if I’m stroking through the water but still haven’t reached the other side of the pool?

Water. Rippling, rushing, deep and wide and stretching out so far beyond me – beyond my tiny legs and arms. I will never reach its end. And the stars – strewn across a sky that is even wider, creating amazing patterns in a universe that is too brilliant, too bright. And I underneath, gazing up with awe-filled eyes.

How large I’ve felt when my voice fills an auditorium, soaring above and beyond the space I’m in to reach out through that great sky. So it is with my words, too. They bend, weaving and shaping themselves onto the paper and then become larger when others read them, like the melodies of songs moving through the air can be caught and remembered, shared. I no longer feel little, tiny but wide, vast and endless like the sky above and water below – the Universe around me.


I blink and see that tiny dancer, that little girl standing on an enormous stage. How big her dreams are, how open her heart and eyes. Wide as the sun, bright as the stars, she is full to bursting with excitement. A firecracker lighting the dark. Is that me?

Yes, yes. I am that dreamer, that daughter, that star-gazer, that swimmer. I am that singer, that writer, that mother – that Woman. I am that Little Tiny.

But I am also that Huge Gigantic. Massive Enormous. Immense Vast. My dreams, my words, my songs – My Voice. Significant and Wide. Reaching out into an endless Universe, a flicker of Big Magnificient in the clouds.

Copyright Stacie Eirich 8/25/16

Written in response to the mid-week challenge @Toads – hopefully my poet friends won’t mind that my musings came in the form of prose poetry today.

Thanks for reading, I wish you a day full of dreams! 🙂