The rain began
to fall behind me

as I crossed
the border

I expected it
to chase after me

and talk excitedly
to me in raindrops

about this & that
that & this

- but, it didn't.

It fell in one country
and not the other.

It was as if the rain
had mislaid its passport

or hadn't received
a visa to rain here.

I cycled off
into the Ardennes

looking back
at the Dutch rain

falling frustratedly

unable to understand
the sun

talking in Belgian.