Such rain we say with cheek against the pane
could make a house sprout second storeys;
then we stop talking altogether, to listen
to the sibilance of drops. There is a feeling
that the storm outside, living so greatly, will
speak out our mind, for there are stringent
voices in the wind, and thunder stumbles on the
mountain top. Close by, paths blur; the cedars
twist and strain, and the whole bare square
field soaks black with rain.
to foundation flows the flood; we are as
pale as people under sea. Storm, that is striking
for the deepest roots—make a change in me.