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.