You breezed in
five days ago trailing
a modest amount of pomp
given your station and celebrity.
I heard a rumble from my bed, and maybe saw
a golden bracelet flung impulsively.
There came the sounds of drops
on the eaves the putter of the shelter
the caress, the steady assurance.
The rain fell as if it remembered us.
Sidewalks shrugged off old habits.
Lagoons spread at intersections
on Church Street flaring their wings
into a thousand million mirrors
in which to re-discover that we
like you esteemed goddess
are nothing but green teenagers.
Not so bad to be. Make a splash.
Five days in a row you grace our space.
wearing one ensemble after another
equally tasteful, muted grays and blues and pinks.
A rainbow behind a veil. Your modesty is becoming
if unnecessary. You’re a star.
It’s raining again this morning.
The camellias sigh with relief.
put their big ears out, listen, listen.
A moss-colored hummingbird probes a crack
in a concrete foundation, who knows why.
The air itself is nectar.