Rain

in the stinging rain
waiting by the library
for the doors to open
–
sleeping rough-
water from the downspout
soaking his coat

little galoshes
stomping in puddles under
pastel umbrellas
–
thunderstorm-
rain shedding off
an elephant ear

standing on the dock
raising high my glass, toasting
the impending storm
–
rusty hinges-
a garden gate
bangs in the night

living day by day
striving to open my mind
and keep my mouth shut
–
nests amid the rafters-
prayer bells ring
in the rain

the gathering rain-
reflections of my spirit
clouding my windows
–
dirty windows-
the outside world
smeared by the rain

hoping against hope
to stem the incoming tide
and still it rises
–
august-
forsaken
by the sun

drops of quicksilver
balanced precariously
on a blade of grass
–
stained glass-
the palette
heavy rain

dark clouds veil the sun-
abandoned by my shadow
alone once again
–
brooding skies-
the scowl of
thunderclouds

a mournful windsong
whispering past long dead oaks-
the forest’s lament
–
graveside rain-
one last leaf
taken by the wind

near enough to see
daylight fading to the point
where the rain begins
–
tending the garden-
raindrops warm
on my neck