And the rain demands attention
with sweet and narrow pain
it pleads to be remembered
by something other than its name
I’m living    I’ve lived
It cries to anyone it comes across
striking fear in new drivers
and ant colonies

And as a girl sitting safely
stowed away
I watch and think I can hear
cries of retribution
from the thunderous clouds
that gave so much of themselves
[carried and traveled]
only to become synonymous with
trouble

As the summer presses on
the sun, relentless as it’s been
has gotten its much deserved break
and the garden,
as nature often does,
only wanted what it needed
I don’t think it makes much difference
to it, if it came from
the garden hose or sky