hopefulNight Rain
A screen, a gentle knock and stutter of rain.
Lightning announces itself silently,
low rumble on its heels coming in with the wind.
I can feel my skin.
Pinpoints, the space between them filled with night air
and the shine of dark wet sidewalk.
One story up, the smell of summer pavement hits me.
I breathe it into the spaces between my points.
Will my skin contain me?
The lightning glows over the lake
I sit very still
and expand into joy.
June-July, 1996
