Now after rain, now after thundering rain all
yesterday afternoon and into the evening,
now after rain, heavy at times, the leaves
weighted on the scrub tree, junk tree in front
of me, volunteer growing out of the leaf pile,
the pile where we toss yard waste, where once
a primrose took up residence, burgundy petals,
golden eye, now the branches weighted so much,
like fishing line when you add gray lead weights,
Father would tie them on, now the tree branch
blocking the creekview, the creek where just
yesterday I saw a doe, two freckled fawns
Now after rain and no sun, the whole sky
a soft white gray, now after a soaking rain, sleep,
no sun, we make amends, try living
with each other without rancor, not as easy
as rain, the rain that leaves one silver drop
on the tip of many white pine needles,
the rain that drenches in a most universal way
not discriminating, water for white pine, for gold
sundrops just opened, for trailing blue lobelia
at the windowbox’s front, rain for invasive
species that we are trying to kill, for astilbe,
the last of the mayapple, first of tomato plants
standing tall in black dirt, and I find once
again astonishment in the small, breathe in,
breathe out, two suet cages hung for birds,
no use chasing away grackles, I let them
whistle and eat, not favoring the red
cardinal, the brilliant orange and black songster
the oriole, I try breathing, living, looking out
where still the water drenched branch hangs low
but rain is drying off, branch lifting, inch by inch


Photo By: Martin LaBar