If the Rain Falls Down Now
Yesterday was hot, the dry air
seared, it peeled away
a breathy vapor from parched lips.
It nailed down a flagging density
to a baked earth.
This morning
there is rain falling, but it has yet to land,
the sky creaks, wizened blooms rustle
in their dry terracotta shelters.
The electric background fizz of insects
scratches at the windowpane.
If I close my eyes
the land might catch the rain by surprise,
mouths may open everywhere.
My fat dog might chase its stubby tail
for the first time this summer.
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