Randel McCraw Helms
There Will Come Soft Rains
There come soft rains and the smell of earth,
And tree frogs creaking unlimited joys.
The mockingbird’s throat will swell for love
Through long days emptied of human noise.
Swallows will build their houses of mud
Moistened, enriched, with human blood.
Not one will know our war is done,
Not one will mind that no side won.
Not one will grieve, neither bird nor tree,
That mankind perished utterly.
And Earth, refreshed as she wakes at dawn,
Will cleanse herself now we are gone.
There Will Come Soft Rains
There come soft rains and the smell of earth,
And tree frogs creaking unlimited joys.
The mockingbird’s throat will swell for love
Through long days emptied of human noise.
Swallows will build their houses of mud
Moistened, enriched, with human blood.
Not one will know our war is done,
Not one will mind that no side won.
Not one will grieve, neither bird nor tree,
That mankind perished utterly.
And Earth, refreshed as she wakes at dawn,
Will cleanse herself now we are gone.
Randel McCraw Helms is retired from Arizona State University’s English Department. His recent poems have appeared in such places as Young Ravens, Chaffin Journal, and Dappled Things.