Dry eyes in the house
Maybe because when it came
It felt like the end of summers, forever,
And, off a poor night’s sleep
I was listening to John Coltrane on repeat
Like a cliché,
Unshowered, way after noon.
So that when the rain arrived,
A promise of popping candy,
Hungry, urgent messages from the sky
That transformed the kids in the nursery
Into a scene from the Lord of The Flies
It turned the air in the room
Not blue, exactly, but…empty.
So we could listen to the secrets
The sun had withheld from us.
There’s so much power
In making things wet.
How it summons
The song of a thousand small sorrows
I wanted to forget.