I do not like to walk in dark rain,
the mulberry trees tossing fruit at each other,
the wind an off track tuba blasting into intolerance,
gutters in free fall, mortar degrading,
glass breaking loose from it’s frame,
waterspouts, waterfalls, waterways:
the drainage ditch fills itself past satisfaction
letting go of waste and sickness, stain and urine.
Even when a rainbow appears, dark rain remains
darkening the cloud sky, gray pockets of blue
and somehow the nearby river collects its driftwood and mud
sailing everything to the very place it needs to be.