The Rain by Karen Liu (14)

 

The rain, my dear, taps desolate on cities grey

Her marked voice an echo, a plea, a cry.

Cry for the parched, sun kissed day

Silent tap, whispered tap, rhythmic tap

Seeds sown, foreboding cloud, blossoms grow in hunger

Snails behold, dripping droplets, wipers race.

Thunder on tin roof, drumming on window pane

Peer out into midnight dark—awash, cleansed, free

Stop, start. Storm, spit. Nothing one can tame

There’s an intermission. She’s rested her show

Motes of grey clatter to

Magician’s trick—wonder suspended, time enveloped

Flash of colour—of red of violet of blue

Delicately preserved, sewn so precise

Is this smoke screened water colour of hues.