the earlier sound of thunder has given way to the softer sound of rain.
doors are open.
streets are silent,empty.
remind me of this moment,
this moment right here,
this one bird moment,
sheltered high in the hackberry tree,
singing end of the day notes with the rain.
remind me someday when i am complaining about some unimportant something.
remind me that the light in the window across the street,
just now on,
was a pale golden rectangle surrounded by even paler ginkgo leaves,
almost silver in the slipping-away-fast light of the day.
remind me that the grass was golden green and out of focus,
that it was darker green near the door where the light had already slipped behind the horizon.
remind me of the lamp's reflection in the glass doors,
golden white against the darkness of the oak tree in a.c.'s backyard.
remind me of the songs the rain sings as it slows.