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I want the rain to come down now,
the wind to kick up, thunder to rumble,
crack the sky all around,
till it rains in thick drops
from thick black clouds for an hour
while I watch at the window for silver rivers
to fill the driveway, splash off roof corners,
and turn grass into bright seaweed.

I am not myself lately,
I'm like a pointless June afternoon,
with the sun out, the humidity high,
and the heat taking the color
out of the last of the spring buds,
among rude birds and fire engines,
the charter school children
cursing and fighting on their way home.

I want the rain to come down
so that I am dry somewhere,
I want cool and hot to clash
and pour out their struggle,
to make contrast of the grey  I am becoming.