Sometimes the rain reaches the earth. Sometimes it doesn’t.
When it does, it washes houses clean and muddies shoes; raises exuberant mushrooms and drives hapless earthworms to the surface to be eaten. It’s just called rain.
When it doesn’t, it’s called virga.
Virga is barren rain, a black niqaab, a nun’s habit
sweeping the atmosphere but never touching the earth
chilling the air with heat of vaporization.
It can cause micro-downbursts, wet and dry.
Since we went into lockdown
I have not cut my hair.
But it will never reach the ground.
Books Available
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside
Friday, November 27, 2020
Virga
Labels:
free verse,
poetry,
retreat
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