Rain in Ash Grove

You want to stand out

in it, perhaps drink

the first downpour

from a silver cup

and let morning’s

grey wash fill

the streets, maybe

until evening

when the sky

clears and leaves

its garish aftermath;

but now it falls

and falls and foams

the gutters, fountains

downspouts, soaks

the fields turning

summer and all along

Main Street, past the café,

feed store, grain elevator,

hound in his soggy kennel,

we upturn our faces

to receive its thousand kisses.

 

--Miguel de O

 

Done