I hear the rain, and then I don’t. I look out the window to see the bright green end-of-summer leaves twinkling, like stars, better than stars. I look to the sky for an explanation. The drops of rain are carefully spaced apart, and the sun is shining. The drops hitting each leaf cause the movement. The sun supplies the light. Twinkling leaves. It lasts maybe sixty seconds. I try not to blink.
Jane Kenyon writes:
The grass resolves to grow again,
receiving the rain to that end,
but my disordered soul thirsts
after something it cannot name.
from “August Rain, after Haying”
Jane Kenyon Collected Poems
