Of that text rain is the great speaker,
from whom hush humbly

repeats its early lessons & over
again at the gray porch, the steps
I approach in all the weathers

that turn, as they do, to rain.
A stray mind in multiples of
nuance rides the distance

home for a word where it's warm,
& where welcome prepares of itself
a leafy soup dipped after grace into bowls.

Rain fills the bowls, rain
seats me there.
Rain sings scat over the car

radio tune I accompany
with a new lyric or two. The farther
away I start from the better

to introduce you with my dear the
wolf said; I knew him then &
there & now: those syllables.