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,
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.