A poem for spring rain

With the Night

Rain has washed the pollen all day – it coats everything and in the arc light on the deck it glows lime green as kelp. I’m liking my boots in the puddles at night when everything is opalescent and moist, the edges fuzzy, my ass sexy in these too-tight jeans but no one sees under my rain slicker. When I reach the magnolia towering in the neighbor’s front yard I stop, listening for the raindrops firing down. I barely get wet standing here so I drop my hood back and look up, up into the mandala of branches forking and reforking against the night sky. In one-point concentration I let her take me in – the vaginal pop and pop of the raindrops down through her leaves bigger than my hands. I’m alive in this spring night, with all my joints loosening, dazed, remembering happiness. Let the rain streak these glasses, I love this night, love my body catching up and what pulls me forward, says watch your step, woman, spring wants you, wants you, wants you.