day 17: tired ode to the post-rain street

When the rain falls again

An uneven, a learning marching band
Its snares the only thing heard
The only thing constant
And they won't stop drumming on my roof

I can smell each drop
Kicking up a crater of dirt
Like delight and oh clean me

But what gets me
Is the sight,
For I cannot see the rain
Save for against my window

Until it becomes a sheet
A veil between our beech tree
And the house across the street
A shimmering

Don't go away again

-Dana Winter