Here comes the rain
crashing on window panes and lane ways
thumping on brownfields long shaded by tents of homeless
in parks and under bridge.
dragging in cool draft air into crack windows, into
frat houses bog down with heat.
pool water accumulating then draining into city basin
for the city demands of us of all she needs.
leaving ourselves in retreat to within as the rain
spreads its blanket on both the good and the bad.
the almanack foretold of the rain
as i contemplate for the right time to plant my seed.
that was then, and now the terraces are
overflowing
accusation spilling from where ever least resistance might be.
nothing impedes the rain
for she is the bringer and taker of life
the singular in the many plurals of distraction, the fortune that does not change throughout time.
here comes the rain, there goes our actions adjusting to fate again
beating down on the roof of our hearts
singing a tune on which our patterns weave back & forth to dance.
is it time to plant my seed, i ask of the almanack again?
as i cuddle in my blanket observing the formation of the clouds
while the city's crier beat its gong in request again of all that i have
then the almanack said, its time to sow tears