Just as we may be sliding out from under the perpetually sodden skies of El Nino might seem an awkward time to post a rain poem, but this one, from the years when our kids were little and the trundle to school could be a memorable rainy day adventure, holds a special place in my heart.
Rain-lace veils all the tall gray hills,
crows come rowing, oaks are hung
with skeins of drunkard robins.
Pigeons whirl and dive and whirl
among the windy colonnades of fir,
and every bush of winter berries, bright
and dark, fills with flirts and chuckles.
And I got laid this morning—no, no,
we got laid this morning, yes, before
the covers got thrown back, before
the breakfast sillies with the kids,
before the creaking boots and slickers,
before the jiggling rain-drips on the tips
of both our noses. Every winter berry.
Every berry, bright and dark and sweet.