In Love After Rain

All the birds
Sound tropical now and
The percussion of
Rain is spiting to a
Floridian sun. The latitudinal
Forecasts are
Shifting almost
Slight enough, the liquid
Baubles of jewel and fluidity of an utterly
Commonplace cardinal
Patterns the shadows of
Lifting herons. He is far
Enough and
Soft as sensual as the
Sun warming left-over precipitation,
In collared shirt
In shortened sleeves the
New heat of a day tracing out
Across his detailed back.

A sudden reminder of
Instability brings the
Bird calls down from the
Sopping trees, the
Grass drinking greedily, golden
Leaf-veins, thin as paper
I am
Confusing him and the
Weather, which
Is nothing unusual. He
Brushes the
Sweat of illness
And joy from his
Forehead

For once I am glad it is not snowing
A mockingbird pretends it
Has Floridian
Plumage