IF IT’S A SERMON
But if it’s a sermon, I’d rather listen to the rain.
Rain tells its own story, one drop per breath,
one clarity of a bead on your palm.
The story ends. Did you miss it? Listen: another
raindrop will flatten the dirt, tell you
her conclusion in one honest syllable. There is no salt
in rain. No sulfur, nor blood.
No wine-stained threat of the millstone anchor. Drop by drop,
clear water: round notes to lull a need.