On Rainy Nights

By John I. Blair

On rainy nights
When everything reminds
How much we’re made of water

I want to run
Into the dark yard
Naked in my skin.

There, with the raindrops
Falling on my hair,
Rolling down my thirsty hide,

I could drink up all the wetness,
Remoisturize, restore
My shrinking, wrinkled self,

Or maybe liquefy
And melt into my mother Earth
Where I belong.

But having felt that
I always make the coward’s choice
And stay inside.

©2009 John I. Blair

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