Sounds of the Night

 

Something is out there

I'm not sure what,
critters and sitters,
and probably a cat.

They chime and sing,

growl and cry,
chirp and make music--
drive me insane.

There's no traffic,

no neighbors noise--
just the sounds of the country
a cacophony of sounds.

My Face Turns Up

My face turns toward the rain.

Drops plays on my skin, dribble

into my mouth, drum a steady
beat on my skin, and hang

like crystals from my eyelashes.

My clothes are drenched, weighted.
Nearby dahlias dance in the shower.

There is no better remedy, nothing more

liberating,  than the glorious rain

and me caught without an umbrella.