Sonnet
Rain will fall on the Sapphires tonight,
Showering the mountains with dulcet drops;
Then sharing the moon’s course without its light
It will softly wet roads, trees, homes, and crops.
In the morning a calf will lap the dew
From the grass. While the rain falls, though, she sleeps.
Few will glimpse the moon — cold, high, dulled, tired, blue —
As countless crickets chirp and the sky weeps.
The clouds will shower upon all this dry land,
Earth from coast to coast suckling the sky’s breast.
Then they will pass on to wash clean the sea.
Once they have flown far enough to the west
You can see them and come to understand:
The clouds that cover you have rained on me.
Tags: Poetry
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