Of ominous skies we say
             we’re under a blanket 

                                                      Rain we describe as if bathed 
                           in turmoil at the foot of a cataract

             Because the world is almost round 
it wears a belt of humidity

        Sash 	
                         might be more accurate	

                                       I wear a heart on my sleeve

Sometimes it is my own heart		
                                                                           Sometimes it is a badge

                                                   Forecasts contradict each other 
                         so shepherds gather in their flocks		        wait 
                                       to see the color of the sunrise is not red

             No one expects these torrents heard in the wrong locations
                          a barn	         a stairwell	  a fluorescent interior

                                                                    when ordinarily we sleep

First light flies in under the black layer 
             neon pink and yellow 		the shade of pollen 
                                                   from stamens of magenta tulips

                                     Look north to see the mountain range 
                                                                                                        and
                           visibility carries us two hundred miles 
              into another country

In the belief we may again be safe
                                                               we step outside