NIGHT VIEW FROM THE BACK PORCH
The silken rush of wet tires along the wet road
passing, passing, passing by.
The whine of another motor, at first sounding reluctant
Then, as the headlights violate my comfortable darkness
The engine sounds loud and aggressive
As if it thought it could scare me
And it does scare me.
The cars gone now
I hear only the sweet, steady drip of the slow rain
Onto the soggy lawns, weary from snow
The flat earth yawns and opens its pores
To drink and wash
In this first taste of spring
Hear the quiet drops, absorbed into the soft grass
now here, now there
This lawn, that lawn, close and distant.
Drink, wash, drink, wash.
Beneath the streetlamp the branches of the saplings
Shine stark and lonely, like ancient antlers.
Rainbeads hanging from the the wires above
Are pulsing diamonds against the sky.