The rain has come

The rain has come

The rain has come.
Strange that something
So mutable
Should strike the ground
With such force.

It beats against the leaves,
Turns the dust to mud,
And makes muted colours verdant.

It invites the irresistible, inevitable
Comparison of the drum.

Odd, too, that all was quiet before.

Heat, perhaps, dumbed the world.
Silent and doltish, we sweltered.
Only, now, the birds sing
And that packed, hard earth,
Fired by an unrepentant sun,
Softens without reticence.

There is little caution in nature’s transitions.

Slowly—without urgency or terse compulsion—
Everything changes.
The blossoms brown and tumble
Like shamed petticoats,
And the grass bends
Like the limbs of dancers,
Or a lover’s neck, tilted
In wordless question.

Bruised shanks of sky
Sink lower
And, comforted,
I think of you.


© Anna Reith. All rights reserved.

Available in the print volume House of Choices: collected poems.