Adventures in Literary Esoterica

Rain

The ceiling flakes with dry plaster,
raining down whenever the door slams,
each flake a drop in a deluge
of neglected home repairs

He spreads a map across the table,
pointing to the rain of dust motes
caught in a stray sunbeam,
gray ghosts falling into paper oceans.

He checks his coordinates,
stroking the rain of silver in his beard,
a cloudy stormfront moving across a face
as he contemplates the journey ahead.

Then, the first taps of real rain on the skylight.
He looks up as the sky finally breaks,
water running in rivulets across the sloped glass.
A rain delay for the treasure hunt.

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Line Count: 16 lines

Form: Free Verse

Prompt: Write a poem in which a single word keeps showing up unexpectedly.

Written for: "PromptMaster !"