rain falls,
               hardly delightful –
                in a moment that creation
dictates,
then washes into a gutter
                as its sound waves sizzle
on impact.
like crying,
               its tears collide with others,

browbeating the night
                 into acceptance
because it is what it needs
and not a want.

Meanwhile, strained eyes skim
a blanketed sky
seeking solace
hidden by billow
and murk,

for an orb that,
even paled or papered,
truly
needs to be seen.