Rain Song
by Jean Garrigue

My sad-bad rain that falls
In lisp and dibble-dabble
On the porch and under stairs
And puddles in the driveway
Brimmed and dolloped by the slow loitering
Of the not-quite clapping hands.
So slight they are on the primrose
Leaves and the periwinkle
And keeps such babble-babble
Going through the day.
Cats in beds sleep long
And I, I’d do the same
Or sing
If all the birds weren’t gone.
It’s silk under the elm leaves
It’s slip into the streams, that clasp the globe around.
It’s in the stealth to steal another tongue than bell
That does not strike but holds
All in its spell,
So fresh and so small.