Waiting for Rain / In the Evening by Steve Klepetar

Waiting for Rain

I waited while the sky grew dark. 

All morning I waited for rain,  

recalling how it spoke to me 

when I was young, just a gentle 

chatter spilling around my face 

as I floated between earth and sky.

I leapt from the house in a downpour,

dashed into the flooded street, 

sliding along a slick ladder of drops. 

Out in the weather, time 

became real, my hair, my face wet 

and cold, shirt stuck to my back 

like a second skin, or wings 

waiting to unfurl on the wailing wind.

In the Evening

I remember how dogs whined 

for you, sniffing and begging 

to be stroked, how insects 

swirled around your head 

but wouldn’t bite. 

I feel your fingers on my cheek, 

the madness in my rushing blood. 

I remember how you walked 

in the evening as sun 

dipped slowly toward the sea,

firelight dancing in your hair, 

eyes so green they pierced the dark.

Your voice rose like a song 

or a chant to a goddess lost in mist.

Steve Klepetar lives in the Berkshires in Massachusetts. His work has received several nominations for Best of the Net and the Pushcart Prize. Recent collections include A Landscape in Hell (Flutter Press) and Why Glass Shatters (One Sentence Chaps).