As Quietly As Rain Not Yet Fallen

Here’s one from the vaults: a cassette demo from around 1990 whose title I stole from the beautiful poem You come to me quiet as rain not yet fallen by Brian Patten.

It was hurriedly recorded immediately after I wrote it (witness some bum notes with the lead line and buggering up the harmonies at the end) and never tidied up, so I don’t think we ever gigged it.

You come to me quietly as rain that’s not yet fallen.
Your currency is urgency, your pockets full of beauty.
You carry no enquiries when you come around calling
for an instant from the routine and desire derived from duty.

And your lover tells you that he loves you,
and you owe him imaginary debts.
So you go and do the things you feel you must do
and return to the silence, half-clouded in regrets;
oh, my lover, the rain’s not fallen yet.

You come to me gently as the bulbs that have not broken
out into the sunlight, and then when you start to flower
you sing to me reluctantly like it’s a song that you’ve not chosen;
But the tune is as pure and simple as the fading of the hours.

There are people who say I push too hard in questions:
they don’t give answers precise enough to hold.
I saw your sister, the one that steals all your inventions,
on the last day of summer before the season turned too cold.

Oh my lover, today you look so old.

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