Rain
In the parking lot
The light is silvered by the rain
And the mist
So it seems like
The earth is sighing
The sharp smell of damp mud
And the way the puddles collect
At the edges of the sidewalk and
Reflect the bare tree branches
The warmth of the coffee cup
Beside my elbow
And the taping of the
Rain on the roof asks
Why have you made a shape to beat against?
Why are you here at all?
