That Voice You Thought You Heard Was Rain

Lone spring, lone fall—what could lone
Heat boast to those mists and rains?

What good was it to hear songs
And then think, Ah, just the wind?

I’ll tell you what—best of all,
The days it was so hot dawn

Had to be jumped by at least
An hour or two to grab cool

Time in clear air, the grass warm,
The stones warm still, just the breeze

Come down to see what the haze
On the floor of world’s stove was,

Was sweet. Love what you can find
To love in less to love more.