and the rain

and the rain kisses the top of my head

like my grandmother does

when i step from warm, safe places

and into the light

and the rain scrubs the air clear and new

and my soul with it, too

and works, thorough and tireless,

from morning till night

may i be like the fog

may the wind take me with it

may the arms of the trees comb through my thoughts

may everything around the corner be muffled and unseen

and the rain tells me secrets in its patters and pitters

because she is my friend

so i know i have a place, right here where i am

and that all is just right

and the rain