wet wrens
by ron androla

if this rain never stops

nobody has a stranger
sleep schedule than i do
so at some point in night
i close our open windows

because rain, & wind,
wake me back to sleep.
i'm really up now after
two cups of java

& it's still steady rain
but one of the livingroom
windows is open
to let smoke out from

lamb patties
ann's cooking
in a small pan
on the stove.

rain wets
the window-sill.
i feel myself
leaning forward

& to
the
right
sitting here

inside
this rain-
drop
poem, this

closed
bud
of
a flowering life.

unending insane rain.
infinite gray manes of rain.
rain is the skin around our globe.
i love rain.