Tapping Rain  
 
Rain finally edged east and out from under
the evil eyes drove it mad.  Made it do things
it wants to forget.   Choreographer, please.
I and the audience need the myth of tap.  
 
Slip your shoes under my eaves any time.
Tapdance soft-shoe like this.
No rattle, drum, metal.  Just whispering,
susurrating, Here now love  rain.
 
Barely October, meaning rain
does not force warm dress.  Water
just right.  Throw in a pinch of protein
to harden, cut acid, cut dirt, she is us.
 
Tapdance us back to the ocean now.
To where we swam in schools.  Where
dry was a dream.  Not a good one.
Dancer, why do you make us wait?
 
Never mind.  You are dancing now.
Not a single window complains.
All give in to liquid, go with  the flow.
Slip off this uncomfortable glass. . .yessss.
 
 

©) Phyllis Jean Green, October, 2005