Rain

It has been raining for many lifetimes.
The ancient buried burghers of the parish
are drawing their legs in to keep their bones
dry. Dead umbrellas lie like injured crows.

Yesterday I found an antique toy arc in the attic.
The farm is an old Barbour jacket in need of wax.
Floods leave their muddy meniscus on the fields.
Only birds can make a diaspora in the sky.


Richie McCaffery

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