A fountain of rain
falls from her hair the way
men jump from airplanes.
Droplets plummet to her shoulders
and roll off towards her fingers.
Water streaks her body,
painting her with a cold damp
brush. She stands there cold
and shivering but will not move.
So stubborn. Why is she
an evergreen withering a storm.

Simple, she wants to show
her demon, he has not won.

[DK]