First Rain

The day it rained for the first time

after I moved here, I threw open the doors and windows

and invited the thunder in for a cup of tea.

I would’ve enjoyed the company.

Alone in a house yet unmarked by grubby fingers or spilled dessert,

— remembering my mother shaking open her umbrella to survey

her garden, exchanging nods of greeting with the drenched flowers;

— remembering too many friends crowded under too few umbrellas,

elbows and laughter jostling for space in a golden night;

I look at the raintree glisten, drenched in the answer

it has relentlessly demanded of the stone-faced sky — crow slick

with surprise swooping and swiveling out of the way of their embrace —

and I let myself be swept away by this new rain in this new place

so that when the time comes, I may remember this place too,

with fondness.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s