When it rains, I can hear children cry
when can we go outside and play?
When it rains, I see the shipyard’s masts
gone from their aching sails.
When it rains, there are mudslides,
but not where I’m from.
Where I’m from,
the fields go thick with ponds,
spreading.
When it rains, the bales of hay go moldy.

When it rains, there is laughter in my ears
remembering my mother and a tall straw hat.
When it rains I think of lightning
and how our dog, Logan, hated the storms.
Huddled beneath beds,
inside the shower downstairs.
When it rains I see his black coat soaked,
I hear him howling afraid.

When it rains, my eyes sometimes do the same.
When it rains, my tepid nature rings true.
When it rains, our love goes capitalized.
When it rains, it rains, it rains.

When it rains, I can smell the grill still burning
outside from the porch.
When it rains now, I dream of chicken and rice
and chocolate chip cookies for dessert.
When it rains I look sideways
and see you sitting there
reminding me of the rain
and that the rain means so little
without its memory.
When it rains, I sense him somewhere close,
reminding me to see that it’s only raining
until the sunshine floods and speaks so true.
Rain or not, I’m glad I’m here with you.