For Joann Grisetti

For us, it comes without prodding The rain from the summer sky of yester year We who have climbed the hill To see the broken fence And the land no longer green like before For us, a tear comes easily Like a stranger who is familiar, and yet unsure' What should we have taken from it What should we have done right again What was all that promise we called spring O Joann, in every season there is always rain But the seeds, let not the tears touch their soul