All night, the roses drank the rain.
The river dressed in mourning and turned its back.
The roofs rained silver which we could not spend.
The dogs sniffed in the grass for missing shoes.
The boughs of trees withheld all notes
but sidewalks would not erase outstanding debts.
The banked fires in the grate sent stiff reproof.
And only water could rejuvenate the rain.
In response to Via Negativa: Rained on.