Sometimes I like the rain.
Our fresh-planted tree drinks deep,
and our neighbor’s new grass, too.
A soft mizzle freshens the complexion,
while a mist curls my hair.
But on a June Monday,
rain pouring from the sky,
Fahrenheit in the fifties,
sandal-clad feet are cold despite
toenails painted "Cherry Pie" red.
Black garbage bag covers
An unclosing car window,
it chose this moment to break down–
oh! somehow I understand why–
though, sometimes, I like the rain.