Beetlebung and Kettlehole--April Poems

Night Rain

Rain,
with hidden ambition
comes back again,
more often than not,
just a touch, a drizzle at first,
but being vain, when least expected,
it pours over the roof
to make you move against me
like a wave.

Funny
how zealous drops do not break
grass blades and flower buds
but wake us from our dreams
to let our bodies coil around
each other, before we resume
to sink toward sleep, listening
to the twisted tongues of
rain.


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Prompt: We resume