2012-07-02T09:31:22-07:00July 2nd, 2012|Nature|

It rained on her a lot

When I am gone
someone will read all these poems
and think

it rained on her a lot

so let it be known
I love the way it sounds on the cabin roof
like hearing my old tap dance class
from down the hall

and the way the soil here is thick and heavy
like a sponge
like a happy drunk
a million hopeful saplings
digging their feet into the pulpy darkness
dreaming of sky

and all the oily slugs and worms
I like their languor
rolling slowly across the sopping grass
there is a serenity to their journey
a suggestion that we are
in this submerged moment
quite safe

so when I am gone
when someone reads all these poems
let them think

it rained on her a lot
what luck
what a wet

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