• Rain


    In the room at the left wing,
    It was to be the rainiest school term of all.
    In the early morning,
    Thick fuchsia clouds would veil the sky,
    Crimping the air,
    And then the lilting downpour,
    Tilting time,
    Although perhaps the rain was in the heart,
    As the sun came out inexorably anyhow
    Through most of the day.
    But it fell.
    It was the morning
    That brought rain
    Inside .the room—
    Tiny arrows,
    Drizzles of song,
    It was just a class
    (And rains had nothing to do
    With lectures and reports)
    But it was raining,
    With no one hearing the silvery sound
    Perhaps because inside rooms,
    Rains were meant to be quiet.
    By late September the floods came,
    The semester had run its course
    And no one knew what happened
    Inside the room at the left wing,
    Except that there was talk
    Of the persistence of quiet rains
    And of a passerine that flew out
    Unnoticed and unseen.


    Please follow our commenting guidelines.

    Comments are closed.