Rain

this loose girdle of soft rain Hart Crane

 

I can imagine, one day, out of this world,

missing the sound of the rain,

the thick wet bees of it, rushing arpeggios;

cadences

of fingerfall.

 

It was good in the hut

where the corrugated iron

of the roof made a drum.

Lovely too are rainblown

craters in sand,

 

like those on the face

of another planet,

seen from afar.

Listen – the rain enfolding us here.

 

Elizabeth Cook