And here’s the rain again, my love: silvering
the mouths of gargoyles perched at the edge of the roof—
Such watery abundance pouring down, and no other recourse
but sieve and sieve it through. Who could stay aloof
through such constant battering? See how the rushing crowds
clutch their collars close, looking for the nearest roof
under which to shelter. Eventually it lightens; the curtains
shimmer a reprieve. A waterdrop slides down your cheek.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.