Rain could fall

It never really rains here anymore.

Days of deep solid humidity,

thick, moist and suspenseful

mount with added pressure and anxiety.

Sunshine creeps: the denouement.

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I’m on the brink of something

impalpable

on the other side of the glass.

I wish for quiet title waves of rain drops

to entertain me at the window

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If it could rain,

I’d hope for sunshine; for anything;

for my sight to be washed away

through the gutters for a night

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or to close my eyes

for the first time

and sleep for years

a sleep induced by the rhythm

of the rain that falls—finally, for me.