There’s something about
rain that’s comforting.

Not how it allows
tributaries of
tenuous teardrops
to whittle oceans
of debris away,
nor even how it
permits the wretched
substances raging
against windowpanes,
street lamps, gutters, to
be wiped, whipped away.

In how its esse
settles in my bones,
seeps into my soul,
sketching out a home
where so little else
has been able to.