the first loud splats
against the window,
and then a rumble like thunder.
Walking through
this quiet dark house,
I fumble with the deadlock,
the storm door handle,
and step on the porch.
The breeze is cool,
much cooler than my house,
and as the first icy drops
touch my skin,
I welcome their cold.
Ah to be clean, rain!
Will you wash me?