Writing Poetry In the Rain

The raindrops fall, writing their poem on houses, on grasses of lawns, on streets and roads, avenues, boulevard Knowing, all the while, that the work of miles, oceansworth of secret words, thunder screamed rhymes and lightning bolt lines travelling zig zag down the page—that not a single image or passion will escape evaporation, will survive erasure by the whiteout sun in due time... But still, the great poet of the rain falls its terrible truth, its beauty, and from it am I given my life and my craft.