Only This Hour

only this hour perhaps the rain storms through
lifting the dust from old customs out of the way roads
your faded housedress, roses

against the palings, let it flow, stream, pound the
pavements of your dream and green, greening
old stories, the cupboards of your mind

the sweet pines' fragrance grows,

unlock the storehouse, wind flinging open
the half latched barns
so that the animals breath great draughts

and the children reciting their applesauce poems
on a calendar day rimmed with gold.
let the rain cleanse the soul and rainbow patterned

oil spots on the carport where the children
were just playing jump rope, five and dime "ballets"
with the clash of thunder, running for the screen door

tne home style happiness inside; indoors we press
our noses to the glass and hear the roar of the gully washer pour
into new silver sieves we've just invented for

where will we be when we are old

looking farther down the periscope of time
Vu-finder restless
and then back at the summer when

it rained, almost every day.
rainbows popping up everywhere
afterwards.

mary angela douglas 3 may 2018