Walls for the House Called World

These songs like rain on the lake,
Like rain in the leaves, on skin,

The long streams of clouds and mists
Can’t sing like them. Just the rains.

If you can’t take it as is,
You can’t let it stand as read.

I read the songs on my skin,
Write the rain straight from the lake.

Here is the world we are in
And the world we can’t go in.

So, are we at home or not?
You tell me. These old rain songs

We make, we make when we hear
Sounds that weren’t meant for our ears.