a week of rain to wash away a year — some more
exhausting, incapacitating, enveloping drought — an overused moment by now

i don’t keep up on aquifers or top minnows, barely frogs
spare the one that’s sat by my shoes nightly
she was a signifier, and now her song stirs our sleep as with lightning cracks
rain was abstract, a storm more so. weather, weathered. is it a different sort of waiting? or a lighter one with some intensities washed into the arroyo
at least now she senses thunder, as overwhelm gives way to anticipation