I always thought that rain was the world’s way of crying 

the little drops innocently sliding down your jacket 

to pool at collarbone or wrist, the body’s quietest parts

followed by a loud “bang!” of thunder

undignified, an ugly crier

but I guess not. As it trickled into my pockets

my cooling hands knew rain is just misunderstood

the next time you see that wrong light, the candle-snuffed

sun, remember that rain

and the dark cloudscented horizon

might not be cause for tears