It's raining hard,
Like someone tipped the ocean upside down.
Soaking me in a second
To the skin,
But just rippling the pond,
Easing into its green-black dullness.
If my skin were only softer,
The rain might flood me through
And like goldfish weaving through the green-black dullness,
I would feel nothing
But a breathless lightening,
Just barely glowing
With the thrill across the sky,
Growing with the surging ocean face
Rippling out all over the place.
Copyright 2000