The Solicitude of Rain

Spring made promises she didn't keep
and summer burned your heart to sullen embers.
You found no consolation in November's
preparations for the time of sleep
but here I am at last, the year's renewer
come to claim my due and give what's owed.
I'll take the chestnuts careless squirrels sowed
beneath the trees that every year grow fewer,
the hedge of headless roses, withered weeds
a garden full of sticks that once were herbs
where now the gardener's careless tread disturbs
a leaf-pile full of worms and centipedes.
And if the living months have caused you pain,
I offer the solicitude of rain.

Collection available! Knocking from Inside