Raindrops echo on their pooling bodies

and flow down

awnings past

yawning afternoon sleepers

and dribble down the drain.

From your window I glass

the nexus of rain wanderers

as they hop the deep earth grooves,

the many mirrors

to the gunmetal sky.

I watch them come and go like birds

at courtyard fountains with

rimstone pools and

flowstone walls,

their shadows age like icicles,

their coats furrow in the wind.

In the sun’s omission

lamplight admires

every corner of your room,

it steals round every book spine,

every hallowed mug

every shapeless coat

and our two bodies,

molded soft in relief.