On holiday

Forecast says rain all week,

scattered-brained thunderstorms

and chance of silky lightning.

Farmers are rejoicing,

caught

in the middle of a rain dance,

models are bending their straighteners

in fury,

school kids are walking

the sidewalks, backpacks draped

over their heads like parasols.

I didn’t come all this way to watch the sky cry.

Open the doors, toss the umbrella

like a parachute into the cotton clouds.

Join me—no time to waste shoveling aside storm,

looking for sun.

Learn to love

the feel of rain.

Dual helms

You don’t need to share

shadows,

meals,

hobbies,

careers,

money,

babies,

games,

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walks,

friends,

dreams,

fears,

straws,

blankets,

thoughts,

sights,

words,

joy,

cereal,

trips,

photographs,

smiles,

sobs,

pain,

umbrellas,

the bed,

your hand,

true freedom.

But I remember the years

when it all gaped like a cellar

door, begging to be filled

with light, another flashlight

breaking the lonely dark

of down there.

I need to share

shadows,

meals,

hobbies,

careers,

money,

babies,

games,

walks,

friends,

dreams,

fears,

straws,

blankets,

thoughts,

sights,

words,

joy,

cereal,

trips,

photographs,

smiles,

sobs,

pain,

umbrellas,

the bed,

your hand,

true freedom.

I do.