At the dead of night there was my rain
Quietly falling with no fuss about trees
By dark tar road with no maps on them.
Rain would fall on a sleep’s dream state
Ever so softly, like lover woman’s hush.
I and rain co-exist in my peaceful sleep
And the clouds would rant no lightning.
I do not wish to think of puddle’s frogs
That came from nowhere on my dawn
To croak the hell out of morning’s quiet,
Nor of dead moth wings on window sill
That had tried to enter light from rain.