Sometimes I wish the rain
could wash my impatience away,
my hardness-of-heart rinsed like grit
from the blackberry bush by the road,
the rain-soaked boughs of the sassafras
bobbing in the day-after wind
like waves turning in a lake, a spray of droplets
suddenly shaken down.
I could stand in the field surrounded
by such luxury and feel for a moment lighter
as if I’d forgiven one thing, one.