Rain won’t let go this afternoon.
Palm fronds wear the water like a glove.
They do not wave: there is nothing to wave at.
They shudder, they sag and spill—
and then a ghostly bark announces,
to any female who can hear it,
not that the worst has washed over us
but that a tree frog has had enough
to drink at last, down through his skin,
and waits for love to come to him.
This article available online at:
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2008/08/today-s-meditation-the-sadness-of-the-subtropics/306891/
