In rain, the soul
becomes a desperate joy.
Overhead, the darkness
wraps the heart, comforting
the grief of bones, forgives
the arrogance of mountains.
Suddenly, the smell of earth
like coffee, unleashed the licorice
leaves and stones, the round, wet
color of starling eggs. If I could
live forever in the rain, the storm,
without a jacket, this would be my Eden.