The Weight of Weather

For weeks end to beginning

The parched queen of summer

Has ruled my garden.

Her thick gazes echo moisture

Just enough to sharpen thirst. 

Rain, when it came at all,

Fell briefly.

Soon dried. 

Precipitation ungenerous. 

But now, under the roof of Night,

Rain in quenching torrents falls. 

A ceaseless answer to the question

Will it rain soon?

Gutters overbrim, their gurgling 

Interwoven with the rush of water

Down to meet earth and leaf and pavement.

Harsh, chill, welcome kisses

From a thousand mouths. 

I feel the weight of weather 

Cling and press, an invisible cloth

Saturated with necessary motion,

And I hope my rain-starved garden

Can withstand this passionate 

Engagement with the Hydrologic Cycle.

Many miles to the south, 

A hurricane breaks against the continent

Furious concatenation of air and heat and water.

We see in this benighted downward rush

Only the merest flick of a skirt, 

The echoes of motion, a magic of 


A lesson in connection, 

Intimacy at the atomic level. 


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