Where is the sky
that fills the happy heart
that makes us sigh?
Where is the blue
that cleans the sorry soul
that we pursue?
Where is the sun
that flickers on the waves
that we can not outrun?
Captured in long wet streaks
on window panes?
Or as stars pinned to screens?
Or cupped on pink hosta leaves?
Oh rain! Stop not, the sun.
Our boots are full.
Our hair is wet.
We huddle indoors like fools.
Open our darkened eyes
with her buzzy brightness.
Restore hot breath to our lungs
Give us warm hugs of the sun.
Give us warm hugs of the sun.
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