Poetry: Welcoming Rain

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The sky was the color of unbleached whites

In a nickel-plated laundry basket,

Predictable—then the pressure collapsed,

The exposure darkened and the drama

Gave way to the perfect rhythm of rain—

Kissing leaves, nestling into clumps of earth,

Reviving the life trapped in the death-grip

Of summer—when all is action, movement,

Appearances, scheduled relaxation—

When we are all on display in the heat

Of the interrogative sun, shading

Our eyes from the truth—when the oxygen

Disappears, leaving us gasping for fall—

When the soft rain demands we go inside.

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