Page 17 - Oasis in the Sky

Tin Roof

Growing up in the mountains of Southeast Arizona,
home was an old, corrugated tin roof pier-and-beam:
not much more than a one bedroom, one porch shanty.

As far as I knew, we were unique because no one else—
at least no one we knew—had a rusted tin roof on their house.
I knew we were poor; we didn’t have the material
possessions our friends had, and that corrugated
tin roof was damning proof of our poverty.

Still, when it rained a nice, gentle rain,
the soothing thrumming was as sweet
as a mother’s loving lullaby.
Its subliminal song suggesting sleep
and surcease from the day’s labors.

When it rained hard,
it was as if a score of drummers were
pounding away in a melange of noise,
competing to see who could rat-a-tat-tat the loudest.

Not until I was an adult did I learn that tin roofs are a luxury item;
some of the best homes in elite neighborhoods have tin roofs.

Not until I was an adult did I understand that people cherish
the sound of soothing rain on a tin roof.

Not until I was an adult did I realize that my childhood
was filled with memories of sweet rain upon that homely tin roof.

I didn’t know how rich we really were.

There’s just something about rain on a tin roof.

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Oasis in the Sky
Oasis in the Sky