The rain will be down for a while
I tip my cap to its honesty
for it does not lie.
Shielded from its slanting
leaning broody under pine
collar turned to a different time
when honesty counted for something
and life didn't press so urgently.
Bruised leaves, a few remain,
to play drum skin to the rain's tattoo
This and its scent
dance me back to you
and the sorrowlust of longing
dulled by time.