A Silence of Rain
Rainclouds slip in, press the crowns of high pines.
The storming is steel to the eye and the ear.
An afternoon empty of birds means the raindrops are falling.
Leaving me rung in the silence, a stone.
Dense feathers like fans shade the song maker.
Emptiness swells in my skull, the echo—earth music.
A string chorus rises of wind.
Storm silence delivers a song of cicadas.